Broken Glass And Cigarettes
by SisiDraig - 2
Summary: Justin Taylor's had enough of his homophobic father and decides to take his chances on the street but what will happen when he gets caught up in the world of a ruthless gang led by the merciless Brian Kinney? AU - obviously! :D
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Queer as Folk blah, blah, blah … let's be honest, if I did own QAF I sure as folk wouldn't be writing this, I'd be hounding the original actors and offering them ridiculous amounts to do a final 'five years later' series - hey, if it's good enough for Desperate Housewives .**

**Author's Note: Like I said, I can't stay away … so here's the latest from my somewhat messed-up brain! =D**

* * *

Justin looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table, the numbers told him it was 1.25 in the morning. Perfect, he decided, throwing back the covers to reveal that he was fully clothed. He slid off the mattress and grabbed the torch from near the clock before creeping silently to the wardrobe. He shone the light inside and spotted his Navy duffle bag and slung in quietly over his shoulder before leaving his room. He turned the torch off when he got to the landing, he couldn't risk waking his parents.

His shadow danced on the wall as he deftly dodged every creaking floorboard and groaning hinge edging his way down the stairs and into the kitchen so he could sneak out of the house. As he walked through the kitchen the moonlight that streamed through the window glinted off something to his left. The flash caught his eye. He jumped a little before looking to see what had caught his attention and that's when he saw it. It was beautiful, sleek, sharp and above all safe. He knew immediately that this was a sign and he walked over to the steak knife and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He was a street kid now, he'd need to be able to protect himself in any situation that came about. Though, if his plan went as he expected, he wasn't going to need a knife or any kind of weapon.

He was going to go to Liberty Avenue, the big gay hang out in Pittsburgh, and get a job as a go-go boy. He'd heard that cute blondes like him could earn up to $400 a night dancing on the bar. It would be the perfect living for someone like him. It wouldn't be long before he'd be able to buy a place to live and until then he'd just go home with tricks at night. He had it all worked out perfectly in his head. Well, he had been perfecting ever since his father had made his views on fags very clear and his mother had made it clear she wasn't about to stop Craig's homophobic Nazi regime when it came to his son's social life.

However, nothing worked out the way it was supposed to. He'd arrived at Liberty Avenue so late that the only men prowling for blonde boy ass were trolls and perverts on the look out for hustlers. Justin promised himself he would never sink that low, even when the manager at Babylon told him they weren't looking for go-go boys, who had nothing to offer but a nice ass.

So that was how Country Club boy Justin Taylor found himself huddled in the entrance to an old abandoned shop entrance, pulling his coat tightly around him as he fended off the cold night. He was freezing and he would kill to be able to go into the diner he'd spotted at the end of the street and buy a cup of coffee. Of course he'd forgotten to take money when he'd childishly fled the house earlier. It hadn't even crossed his mind, he'd never had to worry about money before. He contemplated just giving up and going home and slumped against the wall defeated. It was then that he felt a sharp jab in his side from the steak knife and just like that, he knew what he had to do. He reached inside the jacket and caressed the wooden handle in his fingers. It wouldn't be that hard. He'd pick on a big nelly queen to avoid getting hurt, he'd just wave the blade around menacingly until the queen gave him what he wanted; namely, enough money for a coffee.

He stood up laboriously and snuck to the corner of the alley and saw a perfect target walking down the street towards him. The man was wearing orange trousers that were far to tight, a pink t-shirt that was far too short and his every step was more like the dance of a fluttering drunken Pixie than the walk of a man. He was exactly the kind of man that wouldn't cause Justin any trouble. Justin waited, barely breathing, as the man came closer and closer. And then, when he was so close Justin could almost smell his flowery shampoo, he leapt out and brandished a knife.

The man just looked at Justin and raised an eyebrow as though he hadn't seen anything quite this amusing in a long while.

"Well, well," the man cooed, "what do we have here?"

Justin wasn't sure what he'd expected in this situation but it hadn't been this. The lack of drama, screaming and immediate compliance made him fumble his next line.

"Er, g-give me your money," he tried to demand but it came out more like a question and the other man smirked still further.

"Oh Sweetie, are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling you," Justin said with a little more conviction, pointing his knife with more anger, before adding, "now!"

"Christ," the other man said, looking around as though almost embarrassed, "at least drag me into an alley way first so you're not drawing attention to yourself. You really are an amateur. Here," he said, gesturing grandly to the small side street Justin had leapt out of, "this is perfect. Why don't we go down here and you can continue this little mugging without the fear of being seen."

Justin frowned a little. He couldn't work out what the hell was going on. He wasn't really sure how his first mugging would go but whenever he'd seen them on television there'd never been as much help and advice from the victim. Still, taking this… whatever this was into the side street did seem like a good idea.

"Fine," Justin conceded, "move, into the alley." And then he added sternly, "but no funny business!"

"Me?" The other man asked with an innocence that seemed so stupidly misplaced at this point Justin didn't know what to do, except indicate the victim should start moving by flicking his knife towards the alley.

The tall, queen glided calmly into the side street, with a strange smile on his face. Justin couldn't understand it until he followed the man around the corner into the street and was immediately looking down the barrel of a gun.

"Oh Sweetie," the man smiled, but he did look weirdly sympathetic, "didn't your parents ever teach you not to go to alleyways with strange men?"

Justin's eyes grew wide and bright, terrified and filled with an innocence that wasn't lost on his former victim.

"Oh baby, don't be scared," the man told him, "I won't shoot you."

"No," another voice came from behind him, "but I will you."

And then he felt a hand tangle itself in the back of his blonde hair and drag his head backwards, as a gun was jabbed into the fleshy underside of his chin. This man was about the same height of the first but he was stronger, there was something dark and angry about his eyes and something magical and inviting about the way he smelt and even with a gun pressed to his neck and his hair being virtually yanked out, Justin felt something other than just scared, he felt desire building up in his gut. God this man was beautiful and dangerous and oh so sexy.

But as the gun at his face was cocked all other thoughts went out of his head and it took all Justin's courage not to cry. He wanted his mum, he wanted to be safe at home tucked up in his bed. Running away was such a mistake and now he was going to pay for it with his life.

"Brian," the first man scorned Justin's captor, "stop it. You're scaring the poor boy."

"I-I'm not a boy," Justin choked out.

"Right," the man named Brian scorned, "what are you twelve?"

"Actually, I'm eighteen."

"Great, give the child a medal he can do maths."

"How about you keep the medal," the first man said, "and stop pointing that goddamn gun at him."

"Don't get your tighty-whighty's in a twist, Honeycutt, it's not loaded look." And with that, Brian took the cocked gun away from Justin's throat and shot it aimlessly at the wall. The bang sound, followed by the shattering of bricks rang through Justin's ear as the realisation that that shattered brick could have been his face made his blood turn to ice.

"Shit," Brian swore under his breath, letting go of Justin and checking the barrel quickly before looking sheepishly at the man he'd called Honeycutt, "okay, _now _it's empty."

"You shit, you could have murdered this kid," Honeycutt replied, as Justin dropped limply to the floor, shaking with fear. "What a waste that would have been of a cute little thing like him."

"It would have been a waste of an ass," Brian agreed with a smile. "But I think we should remember I didn't kill him, focus on the positives."

Justin listened to this almost casual conversation confident in the knowledge that this could only be a dream. One of his many kinky, hot guy in a leather jacket with a gun fantasies but this one had gone a little bit wrong. He just pulled his knees to his chest, rested his forehead on his legs and closed his eyes waiting for the alarm clock to wake him up. But the morning didn't come, the smell of the backstreet just got stronger and the dampness from the floor seeping through his jeans got colder and he shivered violently. He heard a scuffle nearby and then he heard another gun shot and that's when he knew this wasn't a dream. This was real, as real as it got and it was almost as close as he'd ever come to death as his eyes snapped open and he saw the bullet buried in the wall just inches from his head.

He looked up to see a shorted, dark haired man holding a smoking gun, with the tall man, Brian, holding the gun just out Justin's direction and Justin was frozen to the spot. That man had tried to kill him. He'd actually shot at him and if it hadn't been for that Brian guy he'd be nothing but a corpse now. Brian clearly thought so too as he yelled;

"What the fuck are you doing Mikey?"

"Covering up your fuck ups!" Mikey screamed back, trying to redirect the gun at Justin. "He knows too much."

"Jesus Christ, Michael," Brian said, wrestling the gun from the shorter guys grasp and putting on the safety. "He's just a fucking kid. He's not worth it."

"As much as I hate to say it," the first queeny man that they'd called Honeycutt chimed in, "Brian's right. Now lets get out here, all this shooting is creeping me out."

"Me too," another man that Justin hadn't noticed before said. He was shorter too and balding and probably a little older than the others. "Let's just leave this place, I could do with a good night sleep."

"Finally, a sensible suggestion," Honeycutt beamed, "let's leave this poor child alone."

"I'm not a child," Justin muttered under his breath but Brian must have heard it, because he looked up suddenly and caught Justin's eye and smirked a little. Justin beamed back but Brian just turned his back on him and ushered the other three away.

It wasn't until the men were beginning to fade out of sight, that Justin scrambled to his feet and chased after them. He rounded the corner and saw them getting into a big black jeep. Honeycutt and the quiet man were clambering into the back. Michael was sitting in the passenger seat and Brian was about to climb into the drivers seat, when Justin caught his jacket sleeve and swung him around.

Justin heard Michael groan and say something that he couldn't quite make out because just touching Brian was making Justin's whole body go into meltdown. He could barely concentrate on what he was trying to say and it was ridiculous and stupid and dangerous because hadn't this man nearly killed him just a few minutes before, accident or not, that should have been enough to stop him running after him but it wasn't, it wasn't nearly enough. He'd seen a glimpse of this whole new life away from parents, away from homophobia and away from stupid rules and he desperately wanted to be part of it.

"Let me come with you," he begged.

Brian just laughed in shock, "you're fucking joking, right?"

"No," Justin shook his head. "Please."

"You nearly got yourself killed in that alley by just taking a brush with this world and not you wanna be a permanent part of it?"

"Yes," Justin nodded. "Please," he begged.

"You're fucking crazy kid."

"If you don't let me come with you I'll die."

"That wouldn't be such a bad thing," Michael muttered.

"Don't be such a drama princess," Brian said, ignoring his bitter driver.

"I will," Justin insisted frantically. "I'll die, starving, cold and alone and then you'll have my death on your conscience."

"I will, huh?" Brian chuckled in a way that suggested he was truly amused by this situation. "I guess that would be a problem, if I had a conscience."

"So you don't care if I die?"

"You won't die," Brian said in a bored fashion as he finally climbed into the jeep. "Just, run on home to your mommy and daddy and forget all about us."

"But my dad hates me!" Justin yelled, as Brian put the jeep into drive. "He'd rather see me dead than a fag and that's the truth. He's…."

But Brian would never find out what the kid's father was because by now the kid was just a waving lunatic stick figure that he could barely see in his rear-view mirror. Not that that stopped him looking, it really had been a nice ass.


	2. Chapter 2

"How are my boys?" A red-wigged lady cried as Michael, Brian, Ted and Emmett fell through the red front door to her outrageously conspicuously house. Brian had always found it amusingly ironic that the 'hideout' for the most wanted gang in Pittsburgh stood out like a sore thumb and still Stockwell and his cronies at the police department couldn't find them.

"Could be better Ma," Michael scowled going over to his mother and kissing her on the cheek before sitting at the table and asking what was for supper.

"Pasta with my famous Marinara sauce."

"Excellent, I'm so hungry," Ted, the quieter of the group, smiled before settling himself down at the table.

"Oh me too," Emmett Honeycutt beamed, clapping his hands together excitedly. "I always get hungry after a hold up."

"A hold up?" Debbie glared, watching as the most sullen and reckless of her lost boys also sat down to eat.

"Don't look at me," Brian said, scooping a healthy portion of Marinara sauce and minuscule amount of pasta onto his plate. "It had nothing to do with me," and in the same breath he added, "and do you have to cook pasta every evening, you know my rule about carbs after seven?"

"And you know how I feel about assholes after eight. Now, eat what I give you and be fucking grateful," she snapped back before turning her attention to the other three. "So, which one of you is going to tell me about this hold up?"

"It was just some kid, Ma. Leave it," Michael frowned, scooping more pasta and sauce onto his plate. Brian seemed to actually grimace as he watched the shortest man and his lifelong friend scoop calorie after calorie into his mouth and straight to his stomach.

Eventually, it was left to Emmett to retell the tale, with a few subtle exaggerations, but it wouldn't be an Emmett tale without them.

"And that's when this kid starts begging Brian to take him with us," Emmett finished grandly. "You should have seen it Deb, the kid was practically on his knees."

"You should have brought him along Brian," Debbie smirked, "I'm sure you'd have found some use for a eighteen year old twink."

"Please," Brian scorned, pushing pasta aimlessly around his plate, "that kid was country club, born and bred. He wouldn't be able to give a decent blowjob if his life depended on it."

"Mm-hmm," Debbie scowled. "If you've finished playing with your food," she snarled, snatching the plate away from him and collecting the other dirty dishes more carefully.

Brian just rolled his eyes and then looked up at Ted.

"So, Theodore," he said in a slimy, false voice, "what's the next plan?"

"This," Ted beamed, putting a flier on the table as Debbie offered the table dessert, they all declined as they went to crowd the piece of paper.

"It's for a parents consultation at the St James Academy," said Michael, completely unimpressed.

"Yes, I think despite Brian's scrupulous efforts to look young, not even he could pass as 18," Emmett said, clearly confused.

But Brian was just beaming. "You are a genius Theodore."

Ted smiled smugly, grateful that at least the unofficial leader of this gang had understood where he was going with this.

"He is?" Michael asked.

"Yes," Brian smirked. "Don't you see what this means?"

The blank looks on two faces prompted Brian to explain, "this stupid breeder event, is going to drag every rich family in the city away from their houses on the same day. If only we had a way of knowing what time the families would be away from their houses."

"Like," Ted slapped another sheet of paper onto the table, "a list of each appointment?"

"Ted," Brian said, his eyes shining like a child on Christmas morning. "I could kiss you."

"Yes, well," Ted shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. "It was nothing. I've also planned the best route to get to the most houses in the shortest space of time. If you see," he said, pulling out another piece of paper with a map on it and a thick red line marked clearly across it, "we'll start here at the Hanson Household," he pointed to one end of the line. "And finish here at the Taylor's."

"Excellent," Brian nodded. "I think we should have someone at the event too, just to keep an eye on things and make sure all the right people are there at the right times. I vote Ted, simply because he looks least like a fag."

"I second that motion," Michael said and the other two rolled their eyes. Michael always seconded everything that Brian said. Brian could have voted they all fly to space in a chocolate fueled jet fighter and Michael would have seconded it. That's what happens when you have a devoted best friend who longs to be your lover.

"Perfect, Mikey, you can drive and Emmylou and I will go into the houses." He ran a long finger over the map Ted and drawn out. "Can you still pick a lock Emmett?" He asked, looking up at the Queen.

"With nothing but my hands and a hair pin," Emmett confirmed, with a feminine flick of his hair.

Brian grinned, "you know boys," he put one arm around Michael's shoulders and the other around Emmett's, "I have a good feeling about this job." Then catching sight of the leaflet, he read aloud, "'parents consultations'. Christ, it's almost as though they're asking us to rob them."

* * *

The next few days were spent planning every moment of the job meticulously. Brian was a perfectionist and that meant he wanted even the finer details completely clear in everyone's minds. They talked over it, did mental run-throughs and even rehearsed it a little. Emmett practiced unlocking every room in the house over and over again, which was annoying for Michael, Ted and Debbie when they were in the bathroom. Brian had simply told Emmett he was doing a good job as he continued to soap his dick.

Finally, the day came. Debbie had made a crazy amount of food as a send off meal.

"Christ Deb," Brian scorned, "are you throwing a party?"

She scowled back at him. "I just don't want my boys going hungry on the job," she said, pinching Michael's cheeks and kissing the red mark she'd left before allowing him to sit down. Brian smirked when he saw the lip mark left on his friend's face but he stayed silent. Let Michael find out by himself. Unfortunately, Emmett was nicer than he was.

"Erm, honey," Emmett said, touching his cheek gently as a clue to Michael.

"Shit," Michael swore under his breath. "Hey Ma, can I go to the restroom?"

Brian snorted. He loved that Michael still asked his mother permission to leave the table. Brian, of course, just got up and left when he wanted to. He didn't answer to anyone, not since he was about fourteen; he even has his own place away from this madhouse when he needed to get away from the 'family-feel' of it all. Brian, despite working closely in this team, was very much his own man. He was fiercely individual, even a bit of a loner and a misanthrope. Sometimes, he just became fed-up of people, that was what the loft was about; his own space for when people got too much for him.

Brian laughed out loud when Debbie refused her son's request to go to the bathroom and Michael was left to wash his face as best he could with nothing but the back of a spoon as mirror and the corner of a serviette.

"Hey, Mikey," Brian said casually, when Michael was finally happy with his face and had scooped some food into his mouth.

"Hmm?" The smaller man muttered, around his food.

"You missed a bit," Brian smirked, pointing at his own cheek.

"What!" Michael scowled, flipping his now sauce covered spoon over so he could try to see the state of his face.

"Ignore him," Emmett frowned, "he's just being an asshole."

But Brian was still grinning as he shrugged innocently and said, "I thought I saw something on your cheek."

The meal continued much in the same way, eating, light-hearted banter and last second changes to the plan. There was nothing about the evening that could have indicated that this would be the day everything would begin to change forever.

* * *

.

* * *

The job was going perfectly. Ted was in constant contact with Michael so that the driver would know if the houses were absolutely empty. Emmett was fiddling the locks in seconds and he and Brian were sweeping the house in less than a minute or two picking up everything worth taking and not leaving a single clue behind.

In fact, things couldn't have been going better. They'd been to every house on the plan and each break in had gone down without a hitch.

"Vehicle 1 approaching Taylor residence," Michael said down the cell phone to Ted as the other two listened in carefully. "Solo flier, can you confirm that the Taylor's are at the consultation?" Brian was desperately trying not to giggle in the passenger seat. It was always the same when Michael drove, they got transported into Marvel Comics with stupid nicknames and weird dialogue.

"The Taylor's," Ted hummed to himself, not playing the comic book game. "According to this they should be at Mrs Robertson's desk now and…" Michael, Brian and Emmett could almost hear Ted squinting to see if there were a couple sat in the chairs. "Yep," he confirmed just milliseconds later, "they're there."

"Excellent," Michael hung up the phone and smiled at the other two, "Taylor house is a go."

"'Is a go'," Brian quoted, "who do you think you are? A fucking thunderbird?"

Michael scowled. "Just get out of the fucking car and get the stuff."

"F-A-B, Michael," Brian scorned, as he gave a small salute and slid out of the jeep. Emmett was right behind him, and barely drawing any attention to themselves they strolled towards the house.

As they reached the door, Brian held out a hand in front of Emmett.

"Stop," he said. "Something's not right about this house."

"Don't be ridiculous, Bri," Emmett sighed, shrugging off the other man and pulling a hair pin out of his hair. "This is going to be a raving success and then we're going to go back to Debbie's and celebrate, whilst Teddy works on how to cash all our earnings without raising suspicious."

"Mm," Brian hummed, but something still wasn't right about this place. Every one of his instincts was telling him to get out of there but he couldn't place his finger on why. Just as he was about to suggest they leave it, he heard a click and the door swung open an inch.

"Voila," Emmett said proudly. "One open door, courtesy of Miss Emmett Honeycutt."

"Well done Miss Honeycutt," Brian whispered as he gently pushed the front door open. "Why don't you look upstairs? I'll check down here."

"Yes sir," Emmett whispered back.

"And be on the look out, I'm sure something's not right."

Emmett just rolled his eyes before creeping upstairs, this wasn't the first time Brian had a bad 'feeling' about a place and so far his instincts had been 100% wrong. Brian watched his friend prance up the steps silently before turning his attention to searching the living room.

There was a small ornate box with intricate designs on it. Brian opened it and saw a gold Rolex watch and some earrings, he pocketed them immediately and shut the box up before moving on. He looked through the cupboards but mainly they were photo's and video's labelled 'Justin and Molly' followed by various years and dates including Christmas, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving and Birthdays. Fucking breeders, Brian frowned as he shut up the cupboards. He snuck around the rest of the room but only picked up another pair of earrings and bracelet. The television was too big to take out with just the two of them but he unattached the cable box and slid that into his bag. But that was all there was. He hoped Emmett was having better luck upstairs. He moved slowly around looking for any potential hideaways or cubbyholes, when he heard a high pitched scream of terror and then a woman pleading.

"Please Craig. _Please_, think about what you're doing!"

Brian froze to spot for a second, hoping to god he sound wasn't coming from upstairs, but when he heard a man reply,

"I'm sorry Jenifer, the boy needs to understand this." Brian knew that this exchange was coming from the joining room.

"But Craig…" The woman began.

"Silence!" The man roared back and then there was another scream, before some rustling sounded from the kitchen, the sound of draws being yanked open and rummaged in. Brian crept closer to the door until he could watch comfortably through the crack in the open door without being seen. He watched as a man who looked in his late forties, held a knife towards a blonde kid that … shit! Not just _a _blonde kid, _the _blonde kid from the alley the other night.

"What kind of trouble have you got yourself into now?" Brian muttered as it finally became apparent what the man, Craig, had been looking for when he produced a gun and pointed it straight at the kid allowing a blonde woman to take the knife and put it away safely. She was tidying! A man was holding a gun to a theif in her kitchen and she turned her back and tidied. It reminded him so much of his past when his mum used to tidy to distract her from the horror of her actual life. But this wasn't like that.

"Shit," Brian muttered, as he saw the fear in the kids eyes. It reminded him a bit of himself when he first started out on the street; scared shitless, no idea how to survive, doing anything you can.

"Craig! NO!" The woman screamed, throwing herself between the man with the gun and the kid, in a kind of way only a mother can in front of a child and that's when things clicked into place in Brian's head. 'My father would rather see me dead than a fag,' that's what this kid had said. Brian had dismissed it as teenage over-exaggerating but as he drank in the scene ahead of him, he had to admit that maybe the kid had been telling the truth.

"Out of the way Jennifer," Craig insisted, "the boy has to realise that all fags die."

And then Brian really did see himself in the kid. How many times had he faced his drunken, abusive father as a child? Admittedly, Ol' Jack Kinney had never pointed a gun at him but Brian was sure that if Jack had had a gun, he'd have shot him.

"That _boy _is your son," Jennifer screamed.

"No son of mine would do _that disgusting thing_ in this house," Craig spat.

"It's called fucking dad," the kid said.

"It's called perversion."

"The only _perversion_ was you walking in," the kid shot back. "You were supposed to be at my school finding out how I was getting on but of course you wouldn't go. You don't give a flying fuck about me!"

"That's it," Craig snarled, he reached out a hand, pulled his wife aside and cocked the gun pointing it straight at his son's head.

He wasn't sure why he did it; maybe it was because the kid was a fag, maybe it was because the twink was entirely fuckable, maybe it was because the kid reminded him of himself. Maybe it was because he was taken over by a moment of temporary insanity but whatever it was, he found himself reacting in a way he would never have expected. He kicked the kitchen door open and shot Craig in the hand causing him to drop the gun immediately. Then he grabbed the kid's sleeve and dragged him behind him before edging them both backwards into the living room.

"What are you doing here?" Justin whispered breathlessly.

"Saving your ass, what's it look like?" Brian answered calmly keeping his gun pointed firmly at Craig, who was spitting,

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Your worst nightmare," Brian replied calmly, "a fag with a gun." They'd made it through the kitchen door and into the sitting room but there was still a long way to the front door. He kept them edging backwards towards the front door, with Craig and Jennifer edging forward.

"Don't take my son," Jennifer was begging. "Please, take everything else, just don't take my son." Craig stayed silent. He had his bloody hand craddled to his chest and he was advancing on Brian and Justin but he wasn't begging for his son to be returned, he wasn't going to do anything and even though Brian knew he'd he'd fucked up badly, he didn't regret shooting that fag-hating son of a bitch. But the point was he had shot him and then shown him and his wife his face and was now in the process of slowly kidnapping their son. He'd jeopardised everything and everybody. Why? Because he hadn't been able to watch a grown man shoot his own queer son in the head.

They were just reaching the centre of the room, when Emmett galloped down the stairs to be greeted by Brian Kinney, stewarding the kid from the other night towards the door, whilst pointing a gun at a man with a bloody hand.

"I heard a shot! What the fuck did you do?" He asked.

"Don't ask inane questions," Brian scowled, throwing the kid to his friend. "Here, take him to the car and this." Brian handed the bag with the stolen goods in it to Justin.

Emmett just nodded, taking Justin gently by the shoulders and guiding him to the jeep. Brian followed, walking as quickly as he dared with his gun still trained on the other man.

When he reached the front door, he slammed it shut and made a dash for the jeep. As soon as he leapt in, Michael pulled away with tires screeching and smoke tracks behind them.

"Shit," Brian scowled, looking in the wing mirror to see the tire tracks perfectly copied on the road. They may as well have written 'Mikey, Emmett and Brian were 'ere' like they did when they were kids. "Now I'm going to have to dump the jeep."

"Never mind the jeep," Michael growled. "What about this?" He nodded towards the kid, who was shivering in the backseat, with tears leaking from his tear ducts.

"You cold sweetie?" Emmett asked, looking around for something to warm up the kid with.

"Here," Brian said, slipping his leather jacket from his shoulders and passing it to Emmett who immediately placed it on the kid.

"What the fuck happened?" Michael demanded.

"I don't know," Brian said uselessly. "I was getting the shit and then there was all this shouting. His dad was gonna put a cap between this kids eyes because he's a fag."

"Christ, you just attract danger, don't you?" Michael glared at the kid, who was wrapping himself up in Brian's leather jacket. "And you," he glared at Brian, "why the fuck did you get involved?"

"You try watching a hate crime murder unfold and then ask me that question!"

"But now you've put us all in danger!" Michael seethed, "for the sake of looking out for a twink with a nice ass."

"I'm sure the twink with a nice ass has a name," Emmett said before turning to the kid and asking gently, "so baby, what is your name?"

"Don't name it," Brian scowled, "it'll only make you want to keep it."

"Keep _him_," Emmett growled, "and in case you didn't notice _you _were the one who kidnapped him Mr Kinney. That makes him your responsibility. You can't just dump him somewhere."

"Why the fuck not?" Brian growled.

"Because the police will find him and make him talk," Emmett said, noticing that the kid was still shivering he rubbed his shoulders through the jacket.

"He knows too much," Michael muttered his agreement. "I knew should have let me finish him off when I had the chance."

"Fuck you Michael, we don't need a kid's blood on our hands."

"Well we can't do it now," Michael growled, "we've fucking kidnapped him. If he turns up dead somewhere the police won't stop until they fucking find us. Maybe if he just disappears without a trace the police will cool off in about, oh I don't know, four of five years."

"D-does that mean I c-can st-stay with you guys?" The kid asked, struggling to get his words out through his chattering teeth.

"Oh baby," Emmett sounded concerned as he put his arms around the twink. "You're freezing."

"He's probably in shock," Brian frowned. "Lie him down as best you can and keep his legs elevated."

"Sounds more like one of your favourite positions," Michael scowled.

"Will you just shut the fuck up and drive," Brian snapped back.

"Fine," Michael frowned, "but I'm not taking _him _back to my mom's house."

"Where the fuck else is he gonna go?"

"You're gonna have to keep him in the loft with you until we can find out how much trouble we're in."

"At my loft?" Brian exclaimed.

"It's the only place," Emmett agreed. "We'll drop you two off first and then take the rest of this stuff to Debbie's but I think we're going to have to run this time Brian."

"Fuck!" Brian yelled, causing everyone in the car to jump. He quickly mumbled an apology as he ran his hands down his face. "This couldn't have gone worse, could it?"

"No, I don't think so," Michael said. "Unless you shot his dad or something."

Three members of the car stayed guiltily silent and Michael knew what that meant. He didn't scream of yell he just muttered something at Brian and put his put down a little more on the accelerator pedal.

"So," Emmett grinned, "now that we're keeping him," he glanced down at the pale, shaking kid stretched across the backseats with his legs in the air. "What's your name, Honey?"

"J-Justin," he stammered. "Justin Taylor."


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so prepare for Michael to go WAY OOC throughout this fic - the rest I think are staying relatively true to the original character with the odd tiny change to make them semi-realistic in this situation but Michael is well gone =( SORRY!**

* * *

Michael pulled the jeep up outside the loft's building and Brian got out, before helping Justin out. The kid just fell against the older man limply, he was still shivering and although it was less severe than it had been, it was still clear the kid was drained emotionally and physically.

"I'll ring you in the morning," Michael said out of the window as Brian struggled to keep the kid propped up and open the door to the loft's building at the same time. "Oh, and Brian."

"What?"

"Don't fuck him."

Brian just smiled and gave Michael and Emmett a little wave before virtually carrying the kid into the elevator and then dragging him from the elevator to the sofa.

"You can sleep here," Brian said angrily, going to a cupboard to get some warm blankets. He threw them over Justin and intended to leave it there. But he could still hear the kid's teeth chattering. Brian touched his hand to Justin's face and found his skin was like ice.

"You could do with a shower," he frowned, his tongue going to his cheek as he tried to work out what would be the best way to do this. After a few moments of contemplation, he decided that it would be easier if he just got in the shower with the kid, purely for convenience obviously.

He stripped them both off slowly but Justin just stood slumped against the shower wall as though half asleep … or half dead. So Brian wrapped his arms around the smaller man as he allowed the water to cascade around them. For a few minutes, Justin's frozen skin seemed to be turning the hot water cold rather than the other way around but eventually, the colour returned to Justin's skin and he started to warm up.

"I'm feeling a lot better now," he said, as he reached out from Brian's embrace and grabbing a bottle of shampoo, "thank you."

Brian just nodded as he soaped the kid's back slowly. He felt the kid shudder a little under his feather light touches but he knew that _this_ shudder had nothing to do with being cold. After a few minutes, Justin decided he'd had enough of standing under the shower. So silently, he opened the glass door and slid out. Brian watched the kid dry himself slowly for a bit before he left the bathroom, showing off that perfect ass as he went.

"Shit," Brian muttered to himself. He couldn't do this. He couldn't fuck this kid. It would just mess things up even more but knowing that wasn't stopping the primal urge inside him to just grab the kid and slam into him. "Come on, Kinney," he muttered, washing his face vigorously, "resist." He's not even your type, he told himself, though he almost smirked at his own lie, every guy with a pulse and a great ass was his type and this kid certainly had a great ass. He shook his head and put conditioner in his hair. He _had _to stop thinking like that or there'd be no stopping him.

He turned the showers water down a lot and although it took a while the cool water and his constant thinking about Debbie meant he finally felt like he'd calmed down enough to go back out and see the twink without feeling the need to pound him into the mattress. He should have known better.

He tucked the white towel carefully around his waist and then walked out into his bedroom to find Justin lying flat on the bed, completely naked, with his legs in the air. He looked beautiful and so virginal and tight. Brian knew at that second there was no way in hell he would be able to stop himself from having this this kid especially if he was going to offer himself up like a dish on a delectable menu. But he tried to stay cool, just for a moment longer.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"That Mikey guy…"

"Michael," Brian corrected immediately.

"Right," Justin nodded, his tongue poking out as he worked hard on keeping his legs above the mattress, "him. He said this was your favourite position but I don't get it. You can't sleep like this."

"It's not a sleeping position," Brian smirked. "How exactly do you think fag's fuck?"

"I - I," Justin stammered, blushing a little, as he lowered his legs. "I don't know," he admitted sheepishly. "I've never…."

Brian scowled, something didn't add up. "Didn't your dad say he caught you fucking another guy?"

The kid nodded a little. "It was just a blowjob. Not that it matters. If you hadn't been there," he shuddered at the thought of what could have happened.

"Don't think about it now," Brian suggested, unwrapping his towel and sliding into the bed. He had to turn away from Justin, the sight of his all-too-perfect body just lying there ready to be ravished was too much for Brian's ever depleting will-strength. After a few seconds, of working really hard to roll over and grab the kid he said, "why don't you go to the sofa now?"

"But…" Justin started. Then he was silent for a second and the temptation got too much, so Brian flipped over and was met by a pair of bright blue eyes.

"But what?" He snapped.

"Well," Justin blushed a little and fumbled his words but eventually he said, "I was thinking maybe you could show me…." He trailed off, lifting his legs just a few inches off the mattress again to better explain his point.

"You want me to fuck you?" Brian asked, raising an eyebrow bemusedly. Resist Kinney, a tiny voice in his head yelled but Brian had barely ever listened to that voice anyway so when Justin nodded, Brian smirked predatorily and moved over to the kid. He took Justin's legs and placed them over his shoulders. "That easier?" He asked softly.

Justin nodded. He was trying to fend off crying and grinning like a lunatic at the same time. He was terrified of this man. This man who'd nearly killed him, this man who'd shot his dad, this man who'd taken him in, this man who'd helped him get warm in the shower, this man who was more beautiful than anyone Justin had ever seen before. And yet, Justin had never wanted anything more in his life than this.

"Just ... take it easy, okay," he whispered.

"I know," Brian whispered back, leaning down to kiss Justin passionately and then that was all there was … kissing and fucking until they eventually passed out with exhaustion.

* * *

Brian woke the next morning to the smell of bacon and sausages filling his nostrils. Shit. What the fuck was going on? He rolled onto his back and sat up slowly. That stupid, fucking kid must have been cooking breakfast. What a fucking breeder thing to do.

Brian's worst nightmare was confirmed when Justin came up the stairs slowly, concentrating very hard on not spilling the tray all over the place.

"Hey," he beamed, when he noticed Brian was watching him. "I made you breakfast."

"I don' want it," Brian snapped immediately, rolling away from the kid.

"But it's the only thing I could do to say 'thank you'."

"I only saved your life," Brian sighed, "no big deal."

"Not for that," Justin insisted, moving around to the side Brian was facing so that the older man found himself forced to look at this kid. "For letting me come back here and for warming me up in the shower." Then he blushed a little adding, "and for keeping me warm in bed."

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose exasperatedly, before pushing himself into a seating position and saying, "lets get one thing straight. Last night, it was just a fuck. We're not some breeder couple. We're not married and I'm not your boyfriend. It was just a fuck, a one night only special event."

Justin stared carefully at the older man and nodded, saying, "so, do you want this?" And put the tray on Brian's lap. The older man wasn't sure what he'd expected, maybe some crying, some kind of massive queen out, in which it would have taken all his effort not to shoot the kid but Justin had been very calm about it.

"I hope you like bacon and sausages," Justin shrugged, lying on his belly and kicking his legs up like a girl behind him.

"Actually," Brian said, as he looked down at the full cooked meal, dripping in grease that was in front of him, "I try to avoid fat like a troll in a bathhouse."

"Oh," Justin said, looking really disappointed and for some reason, Brian couldn't bear to see that expression on that beautiful face.

"But I guess I had a good work out last night, right?" He forced a smile and cut a miniscule piece of bacon off and popped it in his mouth. "Not bad."

Justin beamed back at him, a wide, infectious, sunshine smile and Brian took another slightly larger bite.

He'd almost finished a piece of bacon and half a sausage and some of the bread when he noticed Justin wasn't eating anything.

"Where's your food?" He asked.

"I had another plan for breakfast," Justin shrugged a little embarrassedly and Brian noticed the red in his cheeks growing hotter.

"Which was?"

"No, it's stupid now after … what you said." Justin was looking at the blue duvet with new found interest as he twisted the material nervously in his fingers.

"Just say it," Brian growled.

"I was hoping for something a little higher in protein," Justin mumbled, raising his head so his eyes met the older man's. His eyes were glinting a little mischievously as his gaze flicked lightning quick to Brian's cock and back again.

"Well," Brian said, setting the tray carefully on the floor, "who am I to stop a young boy from getting all the protein he needs?" He pulled the duvet back and grinned. He was incredibly grateful that his first assessment of Justin as a frigid stuck up country club boy had been wrong. This kid was as filthy as the rest of them and Brian fucking loved it.

* * *

After several more rounds of fucking, each one with Brian promising himself it would be the last, the two managed to drag themselves of the bed and into some clothes. Justin went to make Brian some coffee, on his request whilst Brian flicked on the television and immediately wished he hadn't.

BREAKING NEWS were the words that flashed right across the screen in bright red followed by a picture of Justin in his school uniform.  
"Eighteen year old, Justin Taylor, was kidnapped last night from his house in the suburban part of Pittsburgh. His parents, Craig and Jennifer Taylor, say that they were in the middle of a family dispute when a tall man with dark hair burst through the door, shot at Craig before kidnapping the child." A picture of the house was shown and then a picture of the tire tracks Mikey had left right outside the fucking house.

"Police say although they have some leads, the evidence so far seems to be severely limited and it is the belief of Police Chief Jim Stockwell that this was the work of a hardened gang." Stockwell flashed onto the screen.

"It is our belief that this was the final stop of a gang of criminals who'd methodically broken into every house with children who attend St James Academy. This is not an amateur job and whoever has Jason Taylor _is _armed and extremely dangerous."

"My name's Justin," the kid scowled from the right of Brian. He was holding the steaming cup of coffee at a slight tilt as he was drawn in by the news. "You'd have thought he should have known that."

"This is Jim Stockwell," Brian explained, taking his cup of coffee from the kid, "the man with the reputation for ignoring anything bad that happens to the gay community. This will all blow over in a couple of weeks, citing lack of evidence." He took a sip of his drink confidently.

And then an E-FIT picture popped filled the screen, a perfect black and white replica of Brian's face and then another less perfect replica of Emmett.

"Shit," Brian breathed.

"These are the men suspected of Justin Taylor's kidnap," the news woman continued. "We are yet to know the names of either of these men but if you have any information please call our information hotline, the number is being shown at the bottom of the screen now. It is believed both these men are slim and around 6ft 2. It is also suspected that there was another man involved though we are unclear at this time what he looked like. Please remember if you see these men, do _not _approach them. They are armed and extremely dangerous."

The number and the two E-FIT's shrunk a little and moved to the corner of the screen, still visible for anyone who was just turning the channel on as the main part of the screen was taken up by the kid's mom, sobbing hysterically in some kind of press conference.

"Please," she was begging, staring straight into the camera, "if you have my son, bring him home to me. Please. Justin, if you can see this, I want you to know that I love you and your dad and I will do everything in our power to bring you home." The hysterical sobbing continued and Brian noticed Justin sink dejectedly to the sofa.

"You okay?" he asked.

Justin nodded, but it was clear he was lying as he watched his mother staring out of the screen continually begging him to come home.

Suddenly, Justin's eyes felt red, itchy and tears began to leak down his face.

"Stupid allergies," he muttered as he dried his cheeks on his sleeve. Brian handed him a tissue as he sat before going to his desk and sitting down and pinching his nose as he tried to work out what they were going to do and then, everything got a million times worse.

"We have a name for one of the men," the newswoman announced proudly as Brian's own E-FIT suddenly grew again to fill the entire screen. "His name is Brian Kinney. That's Brian Kinney. If you have any information on this man _please _get in contact."

"Fuck," Brian shouted. His stomach seemed to fall away as the realisation that he was totally fucked dawned on him but he didn't have time to be worried. He had to get out. "Kid," he ordered, "grab a bag, fill it with clothes, shoes and food now."

Justin nodded and quickly grabbed two bags stuffing anything he could find into the bags. It was at the moment the phone rang.

"What the fuck Brian!" Michael screamed at him down the line.

"I don't know. Are you ready to go?"

"I'm packing now. But where the fuck are we gonna go?"

"West Virginia of course," Brian said, "I always knew that house was going to come in handy. Where's the jeep?"

"I took it to the Big Q, pulled off the number plates and burnt it out, there's no way they'll trace that back to us," Michael said proudly.

"Good job, Mikey. Right, has Ted still got that old warehouse security system he was trying to do up?"

"I think so."

"Well, make sure he brings it and then get him to drive his car over here and then we can go but we need to move soon."

"On our way Brian," Michael said enthusiastically.

Brian hung up the phone and then screamed for Justin.

"What?" The kid said appearing in seconds holding up two large duffel bags.

"You ready to go?"

He nodded eagerly.

"Good," Brian said. He chewed on his thumbnail for a second and then moved quickly towards his bedroom. He flipped the mattress up and onto it's back, knocking everything off his bedside table and all over the bedroom. Glass smashed all over the floor, his alarm clock started to bleep as it made contact with the faux wooden floorboards but he didn't give a shit, he just hit a button and typed in a code. Justin couldn't believe it as he watched the bottom of the wooden bed frame slide away to reveal, line after line of impressive looking guns.

Brian started picking and choosing carefully from his collection putting them into a bag that looked like a laptop case. Then he picked up the matching bullets and slid them into the many pockets in his bag. Finally, he clicked the bag shut and pulled two more guns from the hidden draw. They were both revolvers and he loaded them both quickly with the deft ability of a pro. Justin gulped as he watched Brian slide the loaded gun, into the back of his trouser's waistband and then held the other one out to Justin, who just stared back with awe and fear.

"You got an inside pocket in that jacket?" Brian asked.

Justin nodded dumbly.

"Right, put this in there," Brian said firmly. "Do _not _use it unless absolutely necessary, got that?"

Justin nodded again.

"Don't touch it. Don't even think about it being there. You only use it if it's kill or be killed."

Justin nodded again. He felt like his jaw was wired shut, as he stood frozen to the spot. Kill or me killed? How serious was this? But that question was answered as Brian slid the metal gun into his hand.

The metal felt cold, really cold but at the same time it was powerful. There was a thrill he couldn't explain as he held it. Just knowing the damage this could cause, made him feel in charge and naughty, like a small child who knew he couldn't get caught for stealing the last cookie. Except this was much bigger than stealing a cookie. This was a matter of life an death. In his hand he held the means to kill another human and as that thought crossed his mind, his hand went limp and he almost dropped the weapon to the floor.

Brian was studying the younger man closely..

"You okay?" He asked. He remembered what it was like to hold a gun for the first time, you felt invincible and free to the point of insanity. Brian remembered how he'd nearly blown his own head off in giddy excitement when he and Michael had snuck out to a deserted sports ground to try out a gun they'd found under Deb's pillow but Justin looked more like he was going to vomit.

"Like I said," Brian said as softly as he could, "just put it in your pocket. Hopefully, we won't have to use it."

Justin nodded mutedly and then feeling like perhaps he should actually say something he whispered, "okay," and slid the gun into his pocket. "Just…" he trailed off.

"Just what?" Brian asked carefully eyeing his watch, and keeping his hand firmly on his cell. This waiting was killing him.

"Don't leave me," Justin pleaded, fixing his blue eyes on Brian's brown ones.

Brian stared at him for a second, his eyes flicking all over this innocent face ahead of him. He took a deep breath, "I won't."

And Justin flashed him a watery smile and reached out to hold Brian's wrist in his clammy, shaky hands. Figuring the kid could probably use any miniscule amounts of comfort he could get, Brian resisted throwing him straight off and allowed him to clutch at his wrist with nothing more than a sharp bark to warn him to be careful of his bracelet. It was black string, cowry shells with his initials carved on one of the shells. It wasn't particularly special or even very expensive but it had history. He'd bought it when he was hiding out with Michael in Mexico on his very first and only other fuck-up. Ever since he'd bought the bracelet every job he'd ever done had gone smoothly and so, the logical, practical, hardened gang leader Brian Kinney had developed a superstitious attachment to his 'lucky bracelet' and hadn't been be seen without it for almost twelve years.

It was only a few more minutes before Brian's cell began to ring in his palm. He looked down to see it was Michael's number. He answered and the only word that was uttered was 'outside' and Brian looked at Justin seriously.

"Let's move."

* * *

**Hey! Little bit of a cheeky request, but does anyone fancy beta'ing this fic for me? In my head I've moved on way too far with the story, characters and relationship to really be able to look at these chapters properly ... because the characters seem sort of alien. This probably makes no sense but I am looking for a BETA so if anyone's interested ... please let me know!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Massive THANK YOU to boriqua522 for beta'ing.**

* * *

The drive to Brian's mansion in West Virginia should have only taken about half an hour but every time a cop car would drive past, Ted would turn a corner and drive for at least ten miles in the wrong direction. So, what should have been a relatively easy journey, ended up taking hours and hours. Not only that, Michael, Brian and Justin were squashed so tightly in the back seat that it was impossible to even breathe without accidentally hitting someone else and in Justin's case that meant enduring an angry glance from Brian or a furious death-ray glare from Michael. Understandably, he edged towards Brian; better the devil you know.

It didn't take long for the warmth of the car and the stress of the day to take its toll on the kid and soon his head was lolling against Brian's shoulder and, much to the other three in the car's surprise, Brian didn't push him away. Instead, he just let the kid sleep.

"Oh my god," Michael exclaimed in a hushed whisper, when he was sure Justin was dead to the world. "You fucked him."

"What or who I do in the privacy of my own loft is none of your business, Michael," Brian countered calmly.

"It's my business when you kidnap someone and make us go on the run just so you can fuck a nice ass."

"Brian's done a lot more to fuck a nice ass," Ted pointed out with a bit of a envious grin as he finally turned onto the long, dark country road that would take them to the house.

"Er, how about we turn on the CD player. Maybe a bit of music to lighten the mood?" Emmett asked brightly, anything to avoid an argument between Brian and Michael. After all, the last one ended with Brian shooting the wheels of Michael's car to pieces. "Have you got some Cher, Teddy? Or how about a bit of Madonna?" He began to sing off tune, "coz we are living in a material world and I am a material girl."

"I don't have Madonna," Ted said, pushing the on button for his CD and suddenly, thundering loud, scratchily high-pitched screeching entered the car, drowning out Emmett's rendition of Material Girl, startling Justin awake and causing both Brian and Michael to turn their anger on him.

"What the fuck is this?" Michael demanded.

"We're trying to keep a low profile Theodore, not let the whole of West Virginia know we've arrived," Brian growled as the so-called music ceased.

"It's 'La Traviata'," Ted explained as though that made any difference. "It's one of my favourite operas."

"Well, unless you want it to be the last thing you ever hear, I suggest you just drive … silently," Brian growled.

It was then that Justin piped up, with "are we there yet?"

"Fucking hell," Michael growled, digging his sharp elbow purposefully but subtly into the blonde asshole's side for taking up half of his space. "Who brought the fucking kid?"

Justin looked to Brian as though hoping for some kind of explanation but the older man shook his head slightly and Justin nodded and curled back up against Brian.

They were all silent for the remainder of the journey.

oOoOo

When the car drew up outside the mansion, it was already dark despite only being six o'clock. It was freezing cold too and just breathing was sending big puffs of steam all around them.

"Don't you just hate the winter," Emmett huffed, as he pulled his spotty, multicoloured carryall out of the trunk and wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck. "Chapped lips and frozen noses are never in fashion. I can't wait to get in that big warm house."

"Don't get too excited, Emmylou," Brian warned, pulling one of the bags Justin had packed and slipping it over his shoulders before tossing the other one to Justin. "That house is going to be just as cold as it is out here. We'll all be sleeping in our sweatshirts tonight."

"I'm sure you and Justin could come up with another way to keep warm," Michael snarled bitterly as Brian passed Justin the keys to the house.

"Yeah," Justin grinned with faux innocence and a cheeky undertone, "like lighting a fire."

Michael scowled so much his eyes were almost lost under his eyebrows. Brian just smirked as the kid followed Emmett, dangling the keys like a rattle as he rushed to open the door.

"I hope you know what you're fucking doing with this kid," Michael said as he pulled his own bag onto his shoulder and watched as Brian carefully lifted his 'laptop bag' onto his other shoulder.

"I wanted to leave him somewhere," Brian pointed out unhelpfully. "You were the one who insisted I take him back to my loft."

"You must have known what would happen, Michael," Ted said as he and Brian lifted a bag full of complicated computer equipment out of the car. "That's like throwing a gazelle to a hungry lion and expecting him not to eat it."

"What?" Michael asked, as Brian shoved a laptop into Michael's hands and told him to carry it carefully.

"What Theodore is trying to say," Brian said, checking the trunk to make sure they hadn't left anything behind before slamming it shut "is that me not fucking Justin last night in my loft would have been against nature." Brian and Ted then lifted the heaviest bag and took it carefully towards the front door.

Michael just shook his head. He was furious at Brian for getting them into this stupid fucking situation but more than that he was furious at the kid. If only everyone had let him shoot him last week none of this would have happened. And now, to top it all off, the kid had to live with them and Brian had fucked him. Brian had always made it a rule not to fuck the people in the gang but now the kid had become an accidental member. Michael was so angry he could explode but he kept it together as best he could.

oOoOo

Brian and Ted shuffled carefully into the main sitting room with the large bag, which held the security equipment. Emmett had already lit the fire in there but despite the huge dancing flames, the warmth was minimal.

"We should get this set up tonight," Brian said firmly, indicating the masses of camera's and sensors that made up the security system. "It's unlikely anyone would find us this quickly but we need to be sure."

"I agree," Ted nodded. "It shouldn't take more than an hour once all the sensors are in place."

"Okay," Brian said, chewing his thumb as he decided on a plan of action. "Michael and I will start putting the sensors and the camera's in place. Emmett, you help Ted set up the computer and," he looked all around him before throwing his head back and yelling, "Justin!"

It was just seconds before the kid came hurtling around the corner, his cheeks were flushed with excitement and his eyes were bright.

"Have you seen the size of this place," he gabbled. "It's like a palace!"

"Well," Brian drawled, "every palace needs a wench. Go into the kitchen and see what you can cobble together for dinner."

"Okay," Justin replied brightly. Then looking around at all the wires and impressive looking boxes and technological bits and bobs, he asked, "what are you guys doing?"

"None of your business," Brian snapped back and Justin just shrugged before running off to the kitchen.

There was barely anything useful or tasty in the kitchen. Every cupboard he opened just had shelf after shelf of tinned food. It was clear Brian had only ever had one use for this place. It was a hideout, an escape pod for when things went wrong. He'd been expecting something to go wrong for a while it seemed but, as with all good con men Justin had seen on TV, Brian had prepared for it. There was nothing that really grabbed Justin as interesting but eventually he decided that he could probably scrabble together a tinned version of Fish Pie. He had to use tinned potatoes and tinned tuna and mackerel but he decided it was better than nothing. He got to work straight away, warming up all the state of the art appliances. It was obvious everything in this kitchen, everything in this house in fact, was brand new. Even the rustic look dining table and old fashioned wine rack was sparkling. The whole house was gorgeous, starting with the idyllic log fire in the sitting room and the shag-carpet rug and the huge comfy sofa's right up to the four bathrooms, beautifully done out and the six bedrooms, completed to perfection. Everything was clearly Brian's design too. It looked like the loft, simplistic, with sharp angles and modern decoration but it was homely and inviting at the same time. Expensive, elegant and beautiful; just like Brian, Justin thought.

By the time Justin had finished making the pie, he was fairly happy with the result. And the gang didn't seem to mind when he went out to the main sitting area and asked if they were hungry. Ted and Brian were pouring over some screen, whilst Emmett was altering various lamps claiming,

"not everything has to be perfectly centred you know. We'll have to improve the chi in this house."

Michael was just sat looking out of the window like a sullen child. He was last to move, when Justin told them dinner was ready, he was first to leave the table when they'd all finished and he didn't say a word whilst he was there.

As soon as he'd gone, Brian shook his head.

"He's acting like a spoilt brat," he said. "Go and get me some more wine, Justin."

The kid leapt to his feet and went to get a second bottle and uncork it.

"He's probably just tired," Emmett said calmly, holding out his own glass for a top up of wine too. Justin poured it like an expert. The gentile country club upbringing showing it's worth. "I wouldn't blame him, you know. I'd be pissed off too about having to come all the way out here if I didn't find the idea of being on the run, totally Thelma and Louise." He took a sip of his wine and giggled, "maybe Brad Pitt will turn up and show us his rippling torso."

"Well, if he does," Brian said, "don't be surprised if I shoot him."

"Would that be before or after you turned him gay and fucked him?" Ted asked, pouring some more wine into his own glass.

"After, obviously," Brian smiled.

"Come on Teddy," Emmett cooed, "we all know Brian's fussy like that. He must have a cock _and_ a pulse, isn't that right Brian?"

Brian just shook his head and stood up in a way that showed he clearly thought he was above this. He placed his dishes carefully in the dish washer and announced he'd had enough of their inane conversation and was going to bed.

"Night girls," he called as he traipsed up the stairs. Ted decided he was going to call it a night too and then it was just Justin and Emmett.

oOoOo

Although it hadn't been officially worked out, the gang had worked out quite quickly the bedroom they were supposed to take. Brian, of course had the largest master bedroom, with the biggest en suite bathroom and the best TV and largest wardrobe. Michael took the room to Brian's left. It was joint second largest and had a view over the back of the house. The room opposite Brian's was reserved for Ted. His computer security system and monitors were already set up there and it had a view of the front of the house so he could always be on the lookout. The only other room with an en suite had gone to Emmett. This room, although smaller than the other three, had the largest mirror and shower and was decorated with throw pillows and other pointless little ornaments that Emmett said would improve the chi. This left Justin with the choice of two small rooms, right down the other end of the corridor. They felt miles from anyone else and they were both dark with windows that were covered horribly by a large tree. They were freezing cold because they both had two external walls but they also felt bland and sterile like a hospital room or a prison cell. Eventually, Justin had chosen the bedroom on the right for no other reason than because eenie meenie miney moe is a cruel game and because that room was on the same side as the toilet so it would be easier to find in the middle of the night. He'd unpacked his bag earlier on but now, sat with Emmett around the dinning table, he was planning to do anything he could to avoid going to that tiny, freezing cell.

"You okay baby?" Emmett asked as he too went to clear his plate and place it in the dishwasher.

"Yeah," Justin nodded. "Just tired I suppose."

"Maybe you should get some sleep then."

"No!" Justin almost shouted. "I mean … er, I'm tired but I'm still buzzing too much to sleep."

"I always feel like that after a long day too," Emmett nodded. "But as soon as my head hits the pillow, I'm out like a light. My aunt Lula used to say putting my head on a pillow was like turning off a radio; I immediately stopped talking and went to sleep."

"Tell me about your Aunt Lula," Justin said, desperately playing for time. He was delighted when he saw Emmett sit down in one of the dinning chairs. They were both wrapped up in thick sweatshirts and scarves to fend off the cold and nothing was more inviting right now that a warm duvet and cosy bed but Justin could not go to that room; not until he was sure he would fall asleep straight away.

"Well," Emmett said with a reminiscing smile on his face, "she was the only member of my family who ever took any notice of me … and bythat I mean she didn't throw matches at me or spit at me or worst of all try to get me interested in boxing." He shuddered. "She used to take me out to these fields behind our trailer and help me pick blueberries and raspberries all day and then at night we'd bake them into the most delicious pies. I always had to close my eyes when she put in the secret ingredient. I still don't know what that is," Emmett admitted wistfully, "she took that with her to her grave. It was after she died that I decided to get out of Hazlehurst and see the world." Emmett sighed heavily and then sat up a bit and looked at Justin with a smile, "of course I only got as far as Pittsburgh but that's where I met my Georgie."

"Who's Georgie?" Justin asked, sensing another story and another chance to stay up.

"Ah," Emmett smiled sadly. "That's another story for another time. Now," he got to his feet, "come on baby, it's time for you to go to bed."

Justin tried to start another conversation but Emmett wasn't having it. He just gave Justin a bit of a tug to get him on his feet and then guided him up the stairs. They parted ways as they reached the landing.

"Night baby," Emmett smiled, kissing Justin gently on the cheek as he disappeared towards his room.

"Night," Justin whispered back, looking after the taller man. From that end of the corridor he could hear the soft hum of a television and the strange glowing blue light creeping under the door and illuminating the corridor a little. He could also hear the soft steady rumble of soft snores and a general sense of life. Then, he turned his back on all this and looked to his own end of the corridor. It was pitch black. There was no light at all and Justin had to feel his way along the wall. He almost pulled a picture off the wall as he traced his fingers along until he found the bathroom.

He slipped inside and turned on the light. He washed his face, brushed his teeth and took a piss. Then, he took a deep breath before turning the light off and legging it to his bedroom in record time. As soon as he was inside, he turned on the bedside lamp and got undressed. Of course, he hadn't taken any of his own clothes when Brian had 'kidnapped' him. So he'd stolen one of Brian's shirts to wear in bed and a sweater to keep him warm. It didn't work, as soon as Justin stripped off his jeans he began to shiver violently. Even diving into his tiny bed didn't help. The sheets were frozen and stiff from having not been moved in such a long time. He tucked the duvet in around him and led looking at the swirling patterns broken only by the old beams set in the ceiling. It was comforting or cosy; just cold and lonely.

He shivered a little and a tear began to leak down his cheek. How had it come to this? A few weeks ago, he'd been celebrating his SAT score with his family. He'd been considering applying to Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts, though his dad was insisting he become a business major at Dartmouth. He'd had parents who cared for him, who loved him and would do anything for him. He'd had friends and his art and a bright future ahead of him.

And now? Now, he had nothing of his own except the clothes in a pile on his floor and the gun Brian had given him. He was on the run with wanted men, one of whom had shot his dad and who'd taken Justin's virginity. He was miles from any city, in a huge mansion that was freezing cold and all he could think about was how the police were coming to get them. He cried some more until turning over and hoping eventually he'd be able to sleep but he felt more and more awake as the tears burnt at his eyes. The noises of the animals outside seemed to get louder and louder; coughing, screaming and scratching and the fear in his stomach was bubbling up inside him until he was huddled in the centre of his bed with tears running down his face, like a paranoid mess. And that's when he decided he'd had enough of this. He pushed himself up out of the bed and walked to the door. He swung it open and peered down the other end of the corridor. He could spot Brian's bedroom immediately, it was the one with the television light shining from the gap underneath. He concentrated hard on the spooky light and made for it quickly.

He knocked softly on the door and opened it. Brian was there, lyingin the bed with the duvet wrapped around him. He was sitting up a bit, his was facing the TV but his eyes slid to look at Justin stood wearing Brian's own clothes, shivering violently in his doorway.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Brian demanded. Justin didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. He felt stupid now, especially when Brian leant over to flick on the lamp and fully reveal what a mess Justin was. He felt like a foolish child and that just made him sob even harder.

"Christ," Brian scorned, pushing himself up so he was sitting upright. "What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep down there on my own," Justin whispered. "What if the police come?"

Even to his own ears he sounded like a pathetic faggot but he couldn't help it. He was tired and it was late. He was emotional and it was all pouring out of him like water from a feelings faucet.

Brian sighed heavily, running a hand down his face slowly as he considered what to do. He looked at the shaking blob of terrified blonde boy by his door and his mind was set. He pulled back the duvet and whispered,

"get over here."

Justin moved slowly over to the bed and got in. This bed wasn't quite as cold as the one in his room. It was radiating warmth from where Brian had been lying and the bed sheets were a little crumpled. The room felt lived in, it felt safe. Brian put the duvet around Justin and then shuffled away a few inches. He didn't trust himself to touch the kid without fucking his brains out. Even sniffing, miserable and pathetic, Brian thought Justin was kind of beautiful and definitely fuckable.

"It's okay," the older man whispered in a way he hoped was soothing. "Whatever happens, you'll be fine."

"But the police are coming, aren't they?"

"Yes," Brian said honestly, his fingers moving to Justin's blonde hair, playing with it soothingly. "But when they do, Ted will know and give us enough time to escape."

"You have a way of escaping?" Justin sniffed, drying his cheeks with the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing. Just being in this bed and talking with Brian was making him feel safe and protected.

"This is a custom built safe house," Brian smirked. "An escape route was the first thing I installed. But you don't need to worry anyway," he reassured the kid, "even if the cops do get in, they won't do anything to you. As far as they're concerned, you're the victim in all of this. They'll put us four in prison and you'll be taken home."

"But that's what I'm most scared of," Justin sniffled. "I don't have a home and I can't go back and live with my parents. What would I do?"

Brian shrugged. "You'd work something out, find a new home" he said yawning. It was really late now and he was really tired but it didn't stop him asking, "where feels like home to you?"

"Here," Justin answered immediately and honestly. "In this bed, with you."

"Christ, how lesbionic," scorned Brian and Justin chuckled a little. "Great, you're obviously feeling better," Brian said. "I think you should go back to your own room now."

"No!" He pleaded. "Please don't make me go. It's freezing in that room."

Brian considered this for a second before conceding, "fine. You can stay here … for one night. But as soon as the house warms up, you go back to your own room."

"Deal," Justin grinned, settling into the bed and wriggling closer to the older man, resting his cheek on his perfect chest. Heat seemed to be radiating from Brian like a boiler or an electric blanket. He didn't think he'd ever need central heating again as long as he was near Brian. He was just drifting into a heavenly sleep when he heard Brian mutter;

"oh, and Justin."

"Mm?"

He felt a tug on the over-sized shirt he was wearing as Brian whispered, "steal my fucking clothes again and you're dead."

Justin gulped and his eyes flew open. Brian was looking at him but his expression wasn't entirely angry.

"Maybe I could pay you back somehow," Justin suggested, pressing his lips carefully to the bit of Brian's chest his head had rested on.

"Oh?" Brian asked, raising his eyebrows. He was definitely interested in any ideas the kid had to pay him back.

"Mm-hmm," Justin hummed as his kissed began to way downwards over Brian's prefect stomach and straight for his cock. "Maybe it'll warm us up a bit too. Kill two birds with one stone, as it were."

And then the time for talking was over and it was all just touching, feeling, humming and sensation; wonderful, glorious sensation.


	5. Chapter 5

Brian woke up early the next morning because he'd stupidly managed to choose a bedroom that faced east and the curtains were paper thin. The cold morning sun had cut through the curtains like a knife and then proceeded to slice through Brian's dreams. Already this morning he could feel that the warmth of the central heating had begun work its' way through the enormous house. Good, he thought, that would stop the fucking kid from appearing in his room in the middle of the night.

He untangled himself carefully from Justin and then pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. He took one last look at the kid, who was curled up like a baby in his big bed before padding downstairs to get a cup of coffee. He wasn't exactly surprised to see Ted already awake, sucking down coffee and tapping away on his laptop, with Pittsburgh News on the television in the background.

"I didn't know you can pick up this shit out of state," Brian commented as he saw his own face flash up on the screen and the words 'still at large' came up beneath it. He couldn't help smirk at that. Maybe the whole of Pittsburgh knowing he was large wouldn't be such a bad thing.

"The picture isn't usually very good," Ted admitted, "but I rerouted some wires and managed to strengthen the signal." He smiled. "I thought you might like to see yourself on television. Your face has been flashing up every five minutes, with more information as to your whereabouts. Lucky for us they're going in completely the wrong direction. At the moment they're pretty sure you're hiding out in the Tioga State Forest."

"Where the fuck is that?" Brian asked, taking a sip of his coffee as he watched a policeman point to a large clump of trees and announce;

"we're 80% sure Kinney and the unnamed man are hiding Justin Taylor somewhere within this area. We are confident at this time of finding the boy alive."

"It's about 270 miles in the wrong direction," Ted smiled proudly. "Thanks in no small part to an anonymous tip off that came in this morning from a camper saying he'd seen a man that looked just like Brian Kinney dragging a young blonde into the forest."

"Theodore Schmitt," Brian beamed, "you sly dog. I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

"Well, don't get too confident yet. A useless clue from a scrambled telephone line won't keep them hunting around there forever."

"No, but the more time they spend hunting around in that forest, the more likely it is that the real trail will go cold," Brian said, watching the TV carefully. They were currently showing a slideshow of Justin's childhood pictures as Justin's mother made yet another soppy plea for her son to come home. "We just need the media to get bored of this story quickly. As soon as there's no public interest, Stockwell will drop this case like a piece of burning dog shit. You know how little he does when it comes to saving fags."

Ted nodded a little. "But …" he started and then trailed off and went back to his laptop. He didn't particularly want to contradict Brian but as he'd been watching the coverage of the Justin Taylor kidnapping something had been constantly brought to his attention.

"What is it Theodore?" Brian asked, sounding half bored.

"It's just," he paused again. "The thing is," he started for a third time, "the police keep talking about waiting for a ransom note. I've done some research and every kidnapper sends a ransom note within a few days at the most a week. After that, the police begin to treat the case as a murder and if that happens, we could be looking at prolonged media exposure."

"So you're saying we should send a note?"

"I'm saying we should think about it," Ted said firmly. The two men just stared at each other in silence until a happy whistling tune broke the stony atmosphere.

"My, my," Emmett said as he walked into the dining area where the men were sat, "isn't this a lovely morning. I do love a little tension in the kitchen when I first wake up."

"It's not tension, Honeycutt," Brian snapped. "It's a thinking silence. You've probably never experienced it before."

"Aren't we joyful this morning," Emmett scorned. And then clocking Brian and Ted's serious face, he panicked. "What's happened?" He asked immediately. "Have they found us? Do they know where we are? Oh God, they're coming, aren't they?"

"Don't queen out" Brian frowned. "The cops are nowhere near us. Thanks to Theodore they're wasting their time in some forest miles away but … he's raised an interesting point about kidnappings."

"Which is?" Emmett asked getting curious.

"I'll explain when Michael gets down here. We need to decide something as a group."

"Ooo, I do love a good drama," Emmett giggled, going to pour himself a coffee. "Especially, when it doesn't involve me getting arrested. Though," Emmett continued daintily, "I've seen enough prison porn to think I'd quite enjoy the showers."

"I don't think prison is like porn," Ted said with half-a-smile.

"Ah," Brian smirked, "what immortal words. I shall be sure to have them put on your gravestone Theodore. 'Here lies Theodore Schmitt," he quoted grandly, " 'friend to many, lover to few…'" Ted scowled at that. "'… I don't think Prison is like porn'."

"What are they gonna put on your grave?" Ted snapped back. "Fucked many, loved none."

"It's not horrible; factual and succinct" Brian smiled as though he were generally considering it. "Though I was thinking something more like 'Here lies Brian Kinney; no apologies, no excuses, no regrets.'"

"Or, 'He's dead but his dick lives on'." Ted suggested.

"Speaking of which," Emmett chimed in suddenly, "don't think we didn't hear you fucking that kid last night."

"What can I say," Brian shrugged. "I'm a hot blooded gay man and … he's a horny eighteen year old. What the fuck did everyone think would happen?"

Ted just shook his head, a look of admiration on his face. "I think your grave should read: Brian Kinney, sexually insatiable."

"In brackets," Emmett added, "he's fucking angles as we speak."

"I quite like that," Brian chuckled. "If I die first, you have permission to put that on my grave."

"I'll hold you to that," Ted smirked.

::

It seemed to take an age for Michael to enter the dining area. He looked pissed but maybe that had something to do with the bouncing blonde that followed him into the room.

"Oh, thank god," Emmett cried when he saw Michael. "I've been almost dying with apprehension. Sitty down," he kicked a chair out so Michael could have a seat, "Brian has something important to tell us."

"Does he?" Michael scowled angrily at his supposed best friend, his eyebrows knitting together.

"What is it?" Justin asked, bouncing over to the table.

"It's not for your ears, kid," Brian scowled. "I'm starving. Why don't you go and make yourself useful?"

"But I wanna be part of things."

"You are part of things," Brian said condescendingly. "Making the breakfast is the most important part of this whole meeting."

Justin just sulked, but he went over to the stove anyway.

"Omelette's okay with everyone?" He asked, and receiving four mumbles of agreement, he began cracking eggs.

He tried to overhear the conversation as best he could but it was useless. They were using infuriatingly low voices and the hissing of the cooker was drowning out any words he might have been able to pick out. So he went back to his cooking like the good little chef-slave he was quickly becoming.

"… so," Brian said, when he'd finished explaining the ransom note situation, "what do you think?"

"I think I wanna know why the fuck I saw him coming out of your fucking room this morning," Michael hissed almost immediately. Ted didn't react but Emmett raised an eyebrow, partly because of Michael's obvious jealousy and partly because he was truly interested by what answer Brian would give when questioned by his best friend about his one fuck only policy. Especially, as he was going to be stuck in the same house as this kid for an indeterminate amount of time.

"He got freaked out," Brian shrugged, like it was no big deal. But it was a very big deal, they all knew it, especially Michael. "Now," Brian moved on swiftly, "ransom note, yes or no?"

Eventually, after much debating, it was decided that they wouldn't send a ransom note, fearing that it would fuel the fire and only give the police more energy for the chase. They decided to just wait it out until Justin Taylor became just another missing person in a long stream of unsolved cases.

* * *

Brian noticed that the nights in the mansion-hideout quickly developed a pattern. Ted would go to bed first. Then Michael would go up a little while later. Emmett would go up last, chatting about how Aunt Lula said something about 'beauty sleep' or 'early birds and worms' or 'early to bed, early to rise'. And then it would just be him and Justin, sat on a sofa watching the TV or sat in the kitchen or in the conservatory where Justin would proceed to talk his ear off for a while until he'd yawn widely and Brian would force him to go to bed too.

Brian usually didn't leave it long after Justin was gone before he went to his own bedroom. He'd go about his normal pre-sleep ritual involving lots of anti-aging creams before getting into bed. Precisely five minutes later, Justin would appear in-between his covers and both would discover that Emmett's Aunt Lula had a very good point about 'early rises'. After about a week, Brian stopped bothering to send Justin to his own room first. It was a waste of energy and time that could be put to better use fucking.

What did Brian care anyway? Justin's 'bedroom' had always been a bit of a charade right from the start. Brian had known from the second they all moved into this house that Justin would be sleeping in his room. He'd just wanted to save face for a while but what was the point anymore? It wasn't as if the other three couldn't hear them fucking till the wee hours of the morning. They'd all made that perfectly clear on many occasions. Still, it wasn't like there was anyone else to fuck whilst they were locked up in this prison-house. Brian was sure that when he got out of here and when he saw other fuckable guys, the need to fuck Justin wouldn't be as strong. And anyway, Brian had never exactly liked the eerie non-quiet that came with nightfall in the countryside. The sounds of animals coughing, the screams of animals falling prey to predators. It was a scary world out there but with Justin sleeping soundly next to him … well, it was a little less scary.

The days in the mansion-hideout were hellishly boring. Ted could keep himself busy checking for updates in the case and constantly telling Brian where the police were in their investigation and percentage chances of finding them, which were thankfully getting lower and lower every day. Michael spent most of the day moping about with a miserable expression on his face or on the phone to his Ma, who, naturally, was worried sick about her 'boys on the run'. She kept talking about going to see them but Brian expressly forbad it;

"We can't let anything jeopardize our safety here." And eventually, Debbie agreed.

Emmett went around decorating and improving the 'chi' of the place and Justin just sang John Denver's 'Country Roads' over and over again, pointing out every time that they were indeed in West Virginia.

"That's very clever," Brian had mocked the first few times Justin had said it.

"Shut the fuck up," Brian had warned when the song began to get incessant.

And, eventually, about a week into their stay at the mansion-hideout, Brian took out his gun and shot the CD player to pieces**; **leaving Justin stood just a foot from an exploded mess of CD bits and electronic wires with a confused and miserable expression on his face.

Unbelievably, Justin's whining about the lack of music was almost more annoying than the constant repeat of John Denver, so, on one of Michael and Ted's trips to town, Brian asked them to get a CD player for Justin.

"Anything else his highness wants?" Michael scowled.

"Now, now Mikey," Brian tutted. "Jealousy doesn't become you."

"Shut up, asshole," Michael snapped back.

"Hey, if you carry on like this. I'll take your going to town privileges off you," Brian mocked.

"What fucking privileges? It's bullshit having to run back and forth to town for stuff but me and Ted are the only ones who can do it because we weren't stupid enough to be seen."

Brian just rolled his eyes. He was completely sick of Michael's sulky tantrums. He was acting like a spoilt toddler, who wasn't getting his own way. Brian and Michael had been best friends for years but he'd never seen him act like this before and although he had an idea as to what it was about he was not allowing himself to think about it too much.

"Just run along," Brian smirked, patting Michael on the head like a puppy.

Michael scowled further and left in a huff and marched out to the car in a huff.

"I wish you wouldn't wind him up," Ted groaned as he went to follow Michael. "I have to listen to him moan about you for the whole trip now."

"You could just drown him out with La _Crap_iata."

"La _Traviata_," Ted corrected.

"Whatever the fuck," was Brian's response as he pushed Ted out the front door. "Justin," he yelled as he shut the door. The kid bounded up immediately. "Run upstairs and disable the alarm so Ted and Mikey can get out."

"Why do I have to do it?"

"Because you're the youngest."

"So!"

"And," Brian said a hint of anger in his voice, "if you don't; I'll shoot you a new asshole."

Justin seemed to consider this for a moment before deciding, "that could improve our fucking."

Brian looked at the cheeky look on the kids face and felt his anger boil and pop. He fucking hated being disobeyed. He hated being told no. And most of all he hated it when someone as stupid and insignificant as this fucking kid did all three with an innocent grin plastered on his face.

"If you don't go now," Brian seethed. "There won't be any more fucking."

"Yeah, right. We all know you're a horny son of a bitch and I'm the only fuckable thing in the house. You're not going to stop fucking me any time soon."

He was so confident, so cocksure of himself. He really thought that nothing could touch him and in a second Brian knew he had to be taken down a peg or two. He pulled out the gun from where it was stowed in the waistband at the back of his pants and pointed it right at the kid.

"Go," he said calmly, "now."

Justin looked at the gun with a bored expression and sighed heavily. "Okay, okay. Sheesh, I'm going." And as he walked away up the stairs, Brian could hear him muttering, "It's the same thing every time. You don't get your way so you pull the fucking gun out and prove you're the big man. It's not like the fucking thing's loaded anyway. You've told me it hasn't been loaded since we started using it at night to liven up our fucking…"

Justin's voice started to die away and Brian was grateful for the silence that was usually so difficult to find in this place.

"Cheeky, little shit," he growled as he turned to see Emmett smirking at him knowingly. "What!" He demanded.

"That kid's got to you," Emmett chuckled.

"Don't be ridiculous," Brian snapped.

"Ooo," Emmett giggled like a child on a playground. "Did I touch a nerve there?"

Brian just rolled his eyes and pushed the net curtain at the window across to make sure Ted and Michael had got out of the grounds safely. He was trying to ignore Emmett, but the flamboyant queen was harder to ignore than a ten inch dildo up your ass.

"I think you actually like him, don't you? I mean god knows he's cute but he's fiery too. Quick-witted, funny, smart enough to keep even the great Brian Kinney on his toes. In fact," Emmett concluded, "if you had a type, I'd say he was it."

"Have you finished?" Brian asked sarcastically, putting the curtain back, satisfied the car had left without setting any of the alarms off.

Emmett just cocked an eyebrow and nodded, "for now."

It was at that moment that Justin reappeared, almost skipping into the room. He was always skipping and bounding and moving and wriggling. He couldn't sit down for more than a second without shifting about. He couldn't even keep still in his sleep. Brian was sick of being woken in the middle of the night because he was being kicked to pieces by the little shit. The first couple of times it had happened, he'd tried to send Justin back to his bed but the kid had just smiled knowingly at him and wrapped himself up tighter in the sheets. Now, Brian just ignored it and whenever he was woken up he'd just move further away or pull him closer; both had the same effect. Brian was also sick of all the guys smirking when he and Justin decided to make it an early evening. Or when he and Justin decided to take a stroll out to the stables in the morning, or the afternoon, or in the evening. So what if they wanted to fuck, that was no reason for the rest of the guys to look at him like they were on to some big secret about him that not even he knew yet. He was sick of all the guys trying to insinuate that this thing with Justin was fuelled by anything other than convenience.

"Did you turn the alarms back on?" He snapped at Justin immediately.

"Well durr, I'm not a total idiot," the kid scorned.

Brian flinched a little at the kid's arrogance but he managed not to lose his temper.

"The jury's out on that one," Brian said in a tone that was dangerously calm. "Now go and make dinner, I'm hungry."

"There's nothing for dinner," Justin pointed out in the same patronizingly, childish voice. "That's why Ted and Michael have gone to the store." And that was the end of Brian's incredibly short fuse all used up. He grabbed the front of Justin's shirt and slammed him hard against the wall.

"I said," he seethed, "I'm hungry."

"Kinky," Justin smirked. But Brian just let out a low, animalistic growl that clearly said, 'I'm on the edge of sanity' and Justin's eyes grew wide, glassy and terrified. Finally, Brian thought, he's fucking scared.

The kid immediately changed tact, "I-I mean, I'll go and see if I can rustle up a sandwich."

"Better," Brian approved, letting go of the shirt and scowling as Justin scurried to the kitchen.

Brian breathed slowly for a couple of seconds, letting the anger seep slowly out of him. He wasn't sure why the kid could get him so riled so easily. The twink just got right under his skin. He was always challenging him, fighting to be his equal and sometimes Brian had to show the kid that no one in this house was his equal especially not some know-nothing kid. Except … well, maybe he had been a little tough on the kid. He had just been a little cheeky after all. No, he had to be put in his place. But had Brian had to turn violent?

With the rational side of his brain quickly returning, Brian was having a tough time convincing himself not to feel guilty about what had just happened and it didn't help when he turned away from the wall and met Emmett's disapproving eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," the other man shrugged. "It's just sometimes, you're a real asshole."

"I'm not," Brian replied. "I'm just drawn that way."

"Mm," Emmett hummed. "Throwing an innocent kid against a wall for being a little bit cheeky? No, you're definitely an asshole."

And then he flounced off, leaving Brian to fully hate himself for losing it so badly. He barely ever lost it. He'd grown up on the receiving end of a few of his father's out-of-control moments and he promised himself he'd never be out of control but now and again something would get to him. And this kid was one of those things. Justin made him feel out of control, giddy and unsure. He made him uncertain, made him question himself about everything and he didn't like it, not one bit.

::

Justin found some bread that was going a little stale and a can of tuna. He decided Brian would have to make do with a tuna sandwich unless he could find a bit of cheese to melt on top. Though Justin knew this effort was wasted. The only reason he was being forced to make this sandwich was because Brian was trying to prove some kind of point. Justin wasn't sure what the point was but he just got on with it, he didn't want to see that wild, empty look in Brian's eyes again. It was an image he didn't think a hundred years would erase. It wasn't Brian that had lifted him up and slammed him against the wall, when he'd looked in those brown eyes, he couldn't see Brian anywhere. It was something else, some demon that Brian usually had under control but Justin didn't want to meet the demon again. His back was a little sore and he knew his delicate 'bruise-prone' skin would be displaying an impressive purple-black mark later but for now, he just carried on like everything was fine … like he was fine, which was exactly what he told Emmett when the taller man appeared a few seconds later to check how he was.

"You know," Emmett said with a bit of a smile, "my theory is he only turned on you because he's unsure about his feelings towards you."

"What, you mean trying to figure out whether he hates me or just dislikes me intensely?" Justin smiled weakly at his joke. The truth was, he knew Brian didn't hate him. It was obvious in the way he was when it was just the two of them, in the way he'd carried Justin up to the bed one night because he'd fallen asleep on the sofa. These weren't the actions of a man who hates you. He knew all this but he didn't always feel it so it was nice to hear Emmett echo his thoughts.

"It's not that he hates you," the taller man said. "It's that he doesn't understand how to feel about you. You see, in the world of Brian Kinney there's two types of people; people he fucks and people he's friends with. You, Justin, are quickly becoming both and I'm not sure he likes that."

Justin smiled a bit as he put the tuna and cheese between the bits of bread and shoved it under the grill.

"Were you a psychoanalyst in a former life, Em?"

"No, baby," he laughed. "I've just known Brian Kinney for more years than I'd like to admit and he's not too hard to read after a while."

Justin nodded and checked on his tuna melt before asking, "do you want a sandwich?"

"No, no. Just finish this one for his royal highness and then give him a wide berth for the rest of the day. He'll apologize when he's ready, though don't expect flowers and an 'I'm sorry', you'll just … know."

"Mm," Justin nodded because somehow, he sort of knew what Emmett meant.

When the sandwich was finished, he took it in to Brian. The older man grunted some sort of thank you and Justin decided to go back to the kitchen and clatter about for a bit, pretending to make dinner. It was only when Emmett came in from the sitting room, where both he and Brian were watching Pittsburgh News for the hundredth time that day, to tell Justin to 'shut the fuck up' as they both knew he didn't have ingredients so the pot banging was pointless. Feeling a little red in the face, Justin decided it would be a good time to go and pull on some of the clothes Ted and Michael had brought back on their first trip in to town. He wrapped up warm, grabbed a drawing pad and some pencils that Justin had worked up the courage to ask Ted for on their second trip into town and then went outside into the garden.

Although it hadn't snowed yet this winter, the frost on the ground gave the impression of freshly fallen snow. It twinkled in the low winter sun. It was ridiculous how early the sun set in the winter. It was barely four o'clock but he knew he'd be struggling to see anything at all in about an hour's time. No time to waste. He walked away from the house, avoiding the pool which was covered in a blue tarpaulin. He strolled under the giant trees, his feet crunching on the frozen grass until he found a spot that felt fight. It was a large tree about 50 yards from the house that had a massive flat rock beneath it. He sat down and the cold immediately bit at him through his jeans and his baggy tracksuit bottoms that he'd worn over the top. He pulled out the pad and looked up towards the house. He'd wanted to draw it for a while. The overgrown ivy and the old wooden beams would provide a challenge and not only that, the house itself was beautiful architecturally. He started off drawing with his gloves on but pretty quickly found the thick material restricting. He pulled the gloves off and began again. It wasn't long before his delicate hands were bright red and the tips of his fingers were turning slightly blue. He rubbed them together, blowing warm air on them but nothing helped. He battled on for a few more minutes before deciding it was useless. He was too cold and his fingers were too numb to be able to do the picture any justice. Maybe he could have a go from memory after dinner but he had another subject he wanted to draw from memory and it was much more interesting than the house.

Justin was already pulling on his gloves and about to head in when he heard Brian's voice cut through the silence and shout, "get inside you twot. You'll fucking freeze out there. Besides, Ted and Michael are back; you can start cooking now."

Justin smiled and shook his head a little. He didn't particularly mind being designated house cook. He did mind being designated house slave but that was to be expected, he was the youngest and the newest and the least experienced. In short, he had nothing going for him so he stood up slowly and strolled towards the house, crunching icy blades of grass as he went.

"Jesus Christ," Brian groaned, pulling him inside when he could reach him for the doorway. "You frozen solid."

"I'm o-okay," Justin shivered.

"Bullshit," Brian said. "Go and get a shower and put on some dry clothes first. Then make us dinner."

Justin nodded. It was clear that whatever anger Brian had been holding against him had been frozen off in his little stint in the garden. Brian was a lot more pleasant over dinner. He kept rubbing his foot up and down Justin's leg and even told him the meal was nice. From the intense stares and the smouldering glances, none of the table were surprised to see Justin and Brian make an early exit after the food had disappeared.

::

The second the bedroom door had shut, there'd only been one thing on either on their minds and that had been to get naked and get to bed as quickly as physically possible. It was only when Justin was lying flat on his stomach that the furious pace started to slow down. Justin heard Brian take a sharp intake of breath as though he'd seen something that scared him or hurt him. Justin was about to flip over to find out what was wrong when he felt feather-light fingers brushing over the tender, bruised skin on his back. Then he felt soft lips following the path set by his fingers and Justin was reminded of how his mother used to kiss his boo-boos better when he grazed his knee as a boy. But this was more than a superficial kiss to sooth a screaming child; this was an apology, an admission of guilt. Justin desperately wanted to speak, he wanted to tell the older man he was forgiven but more than that, he didn't want to break the spell.

Brian looked at the ugly purple-black mark that stood out horribly on the otherwise perfect skin. His eyes were drawn to it, despite his desperate wish that he could look away. He tried to will the mark away, hoping with everything he had that the 'it' would fade. But the mark didn't fade. It just sat there staring up at him, goading him, showing him what he was capable of when he allowed the Kinney blood to boil and the monster to be released. He couldn't bear to face it anymore. He grabbed the kids and flipped him over sharply but as soon as Justin's back connected the mattress he winced. Brian felt sick to his core, he'd caused that pain. It was his fault and the guilt was eating away at him inside.

Brian pushed himself away from the kid and turned his back on him, sliding to sit at the edge of the bed, head in hands.

"It's okay," he heard Justin whisper behind him, as he felt a dip in the mattress as the kid moved closer. A pale hand fell onto his shoulder. He supposed it was meant to be comforting but it just felt wrong. He'd hurt Justin and now Justin was comforting him. What kind of fucked up world were they living in?

"It's not okay," Brian mumbled, shaking the younger man off. "Don't say that."

"But I am fine," Justin insisted. "It's not that bad, I just bruise easily and I'm…"

"Stop!" Brian said firmly. "Don't make excuses for me."

"But…"

"Justin, stop," Brian said looking seriously at the kid. "I know what it's like to be thrown around and beaten up. I know what it's like to live with someone who can be fine one second and flip the next. I know what it's like to be scared of someone you should be able to trust."

"I'm not scared of you," Justin whispered honestly. He'd never seen Brian open up before. This was the first time he'd heard the older man talk about his past or about himself at all and he had to reassure him, to let him know that it was okay and that he was there if Brian needed to talk. But Brian just snorted and fixed his eyes on the younger man.

"If you're not scared then you should be," he warned. "In fact, you should be fucking terrified." He took a deep breath and looked straight into Justin's eyes, "you'd be a fool not to be."

"Then I guess I'm a fool," Justin said with a small smile, pressing his lips to the other man's cheekbone. Then his ear, eyebrow, corner of the mouth until Brian turned towards him and kissed him back. That night everything was slower, everything was gentler and it felt a lot less like fucking and a lot more like something else, something unnamable. Something Brian refused to think about.

::

Brian lay awake for a long time after Justin fell asleep. He was tangling his hands in the kid's blonde hair. He found the feel of it between his fingers strangely comforting in the silence and darkness especially as the thoughts in his head were anything but comforting. All he could see when he closed his eyes was the bruise on Justin's back, the way the kid had winced when it had touched the mattress. And then he'd be transported back to a time twenty years ago when he was curled up under his bed, his shoulder's and ribs throbbing in agony as he listened anxiously for the footsteps of his father downstairs, praying they wouldn't come any closer, praying they wouldn't come and get him.

Brian shook himself free of his memory and looked down at the man in his arms. And that's when he vowed that he would never take his anger out on Justin again. He wouldn't let the guys push him on these strange feelings he had for this kid and he wouldn't let himself lose control like this, not again. He refused to become like his father. He'd rather die than turn violent to the people closest to him. He turned to press his lips to Justin's temple.

"I'm sorry I was a shit to you," he murmured against the pale skin, "but I promise I won't let myself hurt you again."

Then Brian closed his eyes and drifted into a peaceful sleep, which meant he didn't notice the small smile that danced fleetingly across Justin's lips.


	6. Chapter 6: Part 1

**Cue the longest chapter I've ever written... I wanted to post this all as one as it happens all on one day. Then I realised the sheer length of it so I've split it into three parts to hopefully make it easier to read! =D**

**Massive THANK YOU, as always, to Boriqua522 for beta'ing and for your comments and help in general! =D**

* * *

The winter sun didn't come through the thin curtains until late and when Brian finally woke up and looked out the window, he discovered why. The thick black clouds that haunted the sky made it look like perpetual night and the only thing that had woken him was the cracking thunder and the bright lightning that lit up the room, casting long shadows on his wall. He shuddered a little as he looked out over the front yard and watched the rain bouncing off the cobbled drive. He felt cold but that was ridiculous because Justin insisted on keeping this room the temperature of a fucking furnace and then he remembered what day it was and it all made sense. He realized why he'd shuddered, he realized why the weather was acting up. It was signalling the end of the world … at least the end of the world as he knew it. He was 30. Shit!

Justin wasn't in the bed, so Brian pushed himself to his feet and went to the large en suit expecting to see him soaping himself in the shower but when he found the bathroom empty, he knew something was up. Justin did not leave the bed without getting rid of his morning hard-on. Brian had a horrible feeling there was going to be something very unpleasant waiting for him probably courtesy of his well-meaning best friend. He pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped on his black wife beater vest before taking a deep breath and walking downstairs. Every step he took down the giant staircase brought Brian closer to a moment of imminent dread. He could hear hushed voices whispering excitedly, smell the stench of party foods and alcohol and he knew his fantasy of getting through this day pretending it wasn't his birthday was just that, fantasy.

Taking a deep breath, Brian walked towards the dining room and opened the door slowly, peering through the gap to better assess the damage.

"Surprise," Michael grinned, pulling the door wide open and throwing glitter and party streamers over his best friend.

"What the fuck?" Brian growled, looking down at his black top that was now speckled with silver and paper colors. He looked like Emmett on a bad day.

"Happy birthday," Michael just continued smiling.

"What's happy about it?" Brian complained, brushing the shit off him as far as possible though he knew he'd be finding glitter over his body for the rest of the day.

"Always so cynical," Emmett said brightly.

"Well you'd be cynical too if you'd reached the age of fag death," Ted said, taking a cookie and munching on it happily.

"The age of fag-death?" Justin asked curiously. "How old are you?"

All four men turned to look at Justin in a way that told the kid he'd said exactly the wrong thing.

"How old do you think I am?" Brian asked, a dangerous edge to his tone.

Justin shrugged a little. "Thirty-two?" Which admitted a gleeful giggle from Emmett and a gasp from Michael.

"Fuck you," Brian growled at the kid.

"He's thirty," Michael said smugly because he knew things about Brian the kid didn't.

"Fuck you too," Brian snapped at Michael.

"What?" The shorter man asked innocently, "you_ are_ thirty."

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Oh I see, it on the gravestone now," Justin suddenly piped up, pointing to a gravestone cake which stood in the middle of the table.

The icing was grey, with green bits of icing to depict mould and across the front was written; _Brian Kinney aged 30. Sexually insatiable (he's fucking angles as we speak)._

"That's very cute, Theodore," Brian scorned, reading the inscription.

"I told you I'd hold you to it," Ted said with a grin.

"Mmm," Brian hummed, dipping his finger into the cake and wiping his name away. It may only be icing and he knew it was a joke but seeing his name on a grave was freaking him out. He sucked the icing off his finger and smiled. "Not bad," he judged because he had to be honest, the cake tasted amazing.

"Emmett made it," Michael said immediately.

"And Justin helped me," Emmett added, wrapping his arms around Justin's chest from behind. The glares between Michael and Emmett weren't lost on Brian but he decided to ignore them as he unattached Emmett's arms from the kid and pulled Justin closer to him until they were almost pressed up against each other.

"You can bake too?" he asked the blonde. Justin just beamed back at him and nodded. "Well, aren't you just full of unexpected talents."

"Er … I came up with the idea for the party," Michael interrupted immediately, grabbing Brian's shoulder and pulling him to look around at the decorations, earning himself another glare from Emmett and Brian knew he had to find out what had happened between those two. "I did all the planning," Michael continued, "and I made you this." He handed Brian a CD of his favourite songs from their childhood. "Put it on."

Brian obliged and David Bowie began to fill the room.

"A sonic recreation of our misspent youth," Brian scorned and then seeing the disappointed look on Michael's face he added, "I love it … thank you, Mikey." And Michael was grinning again.

Justin thought it was pathetic how much a word from Brian could alter Michael's mood but he didn't say anything. He knew he wasn't exactly a welcome guest at this birthday celebration and he knew that Michael was angry with Emmett for letting him in on it at all. In fact, Justin was pretty sure Michael would have preferred it if this had just been a private party for two but the house wasn't that big and nothing private went on not without Ted knowing about it anyway.

"I got you this," Emmett said, handing over a silk scarf. "Obviously I couldn't go out to the stores so I found something in my collection that you might like." He smiled lovingly at the scarf. "It's my favorite one. My Aunt Lula bought it for me just before she died and she told me to wear it whenever I needed luck but now I'm passing it on to you." He looked teary eyed as he spoke as though parting with the scarf was physically hurting him.

"It's very nice Emmett," Brian said, feeling the soft material between his fingers, "but I think it would be best if you kept it." He handed it back. "I don't need presents. I never had them as a kid."

"Well," Emmett snatched back his gift, "if you insist."

"No presents, huh?" Ted said with a slight smirk. "I guess you won't be wanting this top of the range FN57 then?" He was dangling the gun between two fingers. It rocked gently in his grip swinging tantalizingly and Brian's eyes lit up when he saw it.

"How the fuck did you get hold of that?" he asked, snatching it immediately and turning it over and over in his hands.

"I had one on order a while ago," Ted shrugged. "You were always moaning about yours being unpredictable with its shots sometimes."

"Mm-hmm," Brian nodded, as he held the weapon in his right hand. It fitted perfectly, of course, the handle slotting perfectly into his palm. He stood, legs shoulder width apart and one eye closed, as he aimed carefully the gun as though he were going to shoot the glass in the two French doors that led to the garden outside. "Is it loaded?"

"No, but there's a 20 round magazine in my room upstairs."

"Excellent," Brian swung the gun around, pointing it at each of the men in turn. He imagined what it would be like to shoot with this. His gun was fine, it was standard and it did the job but this was the gun he'd dreamed of. Semi-automatic, best shot, best accuracy, best chance of getting out. He let his finger pull back on the trigger.

"Bang," he whispered, imagining the bullets flying from the end of the barrel, smashing the glass door and flying out into the storm outside. He grinned. This was turning out to be a good day after all.

He smiled around at the other men in the room before putting the gun safely in the waistband of his jeans. It even felt good there, it felt safe.

"Thanks Theodore," he said and the older man nodded back. "Are we done?" Brian asked. "Can we go back to pretending this day doesn't exist?"

"Wait!" Michael put out his hands. "What about you, Justin?" he asked smugly. "Did you get anything for Brian?"

Justin shook his head. He looked embarrassed but it was more than that, Brian thought, he looked angry too.

"Nothing?" Michael asked and his amusement was apparent to everyone. "Not one thing for the man you claim to love."

"I didn't want anything," Brian pointed out.

"I guess," Michael agreed. "It just seems weird that Justin didn't get you anything."

"I'd have got him a present if you'd told me it was his birthday!" Justin retorted suddenly. "But you kept it completely to yourself until you decided that you actually needed Emmett's help to make the birthday cake. I only found out any of this was happening when Emmett asked me if I'd give him a hand early this morning."

"Well, you couldn't be trusted with a secret," Michael countered.

"I've been keeping secrets since I was five."

"Oh, last week then?"

"Er, ladies," Brian cut in. "Can we fight over me later? This is supposed to be a celebration of my passing over to the dead faggot society."

"Exactly," Emmett chimed in. "I think we should make a toast and dig into all this lovely food. Teddy, why don't you say a few words, you're always good at this kind of thing."

"Actually," Michael piped up, pulling a crumpled bit of paper from his jeans pocket. "I have a bit of a speech written up."

"Of course you do," Brian rolled his eyes.

"Ooo, la-dee-da," Emmett chuckled. "A speech?"

Michael shot Emmett a dirty look but the shorter man managed to let it go and concentrated instead on smoothing out his paper against his thigh. Once he was totally satisfied that he would be able to read the words, he cleared his throat and began to talk … and talk. And talk. Fifteen minutes later, he was still talking and the other four men in the room were sick of stifling yawns and feigning interest. If it hadn't been for the incessant lighting flashes and the thunderous rumbles from the weather outside, they would probably have been snoring ages ago but still the speech went on.

It was pretty much made up of memories and anecdotes from Brian and Michael's childhood together, their rise through crime together all the way until this point now; thirty years old and hiding out in a giant house … together. And them being together was definitely the focus point of the speech, which became particularly obvious when he finally came to the end. Staring fixedly at Justin, he finished pompously,

"And so though others may come and go, there are only two stars in the Brian and Mikey show." Then he grinned straight at Brian. "I thought I'd end on a sort of rhyme."

The other man cocked an eyebrow, "what rhyme?"

"Go and show," Michael insisted.

"Uh-huh , well, you always were shit at English," Brian smirked as he and the others got to their feet stretching their stiff limbs. "It's was very nice, Mikey … maybe a little long."

"Yeah," Emmett agreed. "It could probably have been improved by a catchy show tune in the middle. Then again," he looked to Justin seriously, "what couldn't be improved by a catchy show tune in the middle?"

"Fucking?" Justin suggested.

Emmett just pulled a face as though he was truly having to think about it and Justin chuckled a little. Michael, as usual these days, was completely humourless about the situation and just glared at the two men. Emmett, naturally, continued regardless, ignoring Michael's mini-queen outs had become part of his everyday routine in this house.

"I really do have to eat something," he said, rubbing his stomach, "before my belly starts roaring louder than a lion in a brawl."

"That's sounds like a good idea," Ted agreed, "I'll cut the cake."

"Baby," Emmett said to Justin, "why don't you grab the plates for everybody and I'll pour the drinks." He put one hand on Brian's shoulder, "time to celebrate this studs death."

"What a pal," Brian scorned, removing Emmett's hand as though it were something particularly disgusting.

"Oh I wouldn't worry about it, Bri," Ted smirked, cutting a piece of cake and putting it on one of the plates that Justin had just retrieved. "You're fucking an eighteen year old."

"That is true," he smirked, flashing the kid his most smouldering look as he took the plate of cake from the twink's hands. "Don't they say you're as young as the man you feel? Does that make me eighteen?"

"I believe it was the woman you feel," Ted corrected.

"It's irrelevant anyway," Justin grinned cheekily, "you're still not eighteen."

"Ooo-hooo," Emmett and Ted wooped in unison.

"You little bastard," Brian scowled, swatting the kid on the ass as he walked past.

Michael just watched the whole event with a scowl right across his face. This was meant to be his party and now they were all ignoring him. He'd just wanted one day, even one hour, where it was just him and Brian like it had been in the old days but the conversation had turned to Brian and Justin and this casual fucking thing that was going on between them. It was nothing, Michael knew that. Brian said that, so why were Ted and Emmett trying to make it anything more than it was. They were totally fucking deluded.

The food, especially the cake, really was delicious and everyone agreed that Emmett and Justin had done an excellent job … except Michael, who'd so far refused to comment on anything anybody else had contributed to this event. So, when they were so full they were going to explode, Emmett got Justin to start tidying up and had a quiet word in Brian's ear.

"Will you talk to Michael," he hissed. "It's for the good of the group. He's bringing everyone down with all this misery."

"What do you expect me to do about it?" Brian had hissed back.

"You're his best friend, you figure it out."

Brian had conceded, eventually, that he did owe it to the house to at least try and bring Michael out of this world of perpetual misery he'd fallen into. Besides, he was still curious about the glares Michael and Emmett had been shooting at each other even though he was fairly sure he knew what it was about, he'd still like to hear Michael actually say it out loud. So, he walked over to his best friend and took him by the elbow, producing a joint and holding it in front of the shorter man.

"Let's get out of here, Mikey," he smiled. "For old times sake."

::

"The rain looks weird in here," Michael commented, as the thick raindrops smacked hard against the glass roof of the conservatory. The downpour didn't look any closer to stopping and although the lightening had died down a while ago, the sky was still thick with black, menacing clouds.

"What's wrong between you and Emmett?" Brian asked, placing the joint between his lips and patting his pockets in search of a lighter. He wasn't the kind of man to beat about the bush with inane talk about the weather.

Michael, however, was the kind of man to put things off so he said, "nothing."

"Bullshit," Brian snorted, sitting down in one of the arm chairs that looked like they were made out of bamboo. He lit the toke and inhaled deeply. "You were glaring at him all through my party. Here." He handed over the joint and Michael took a long drag, coughing a little as the smoke filled his lungs.

"It was just creative differences, that's all."

"Creative differences about…" Michael didn't answer so Brian answered for him, "Justin."

"It's got nothing to do with that little twot," Michael shot back immediately but his blushing cheeks gave him away.

"Really?" Brian asked knowingly as he pinched his joint back. "Because it seemed to me like you were pissed because Emmett told Justin about your little surprise party."

"That's not it," Michael insisted but Brian had been his best friend for fifteen years. He always knew when Michael was lying and this was one of those times.

"You don't have to exclude him, you know," Brian said soothingly, taking another long drag and letting the smoke out slowly. He was beginning to feel more relaxed already. It didn't seem to be having the same effect of Michael who was just becoming more riled.

"I don't exclude him."

"But you do hate him," Brian said calmly, about to take another hit as the joint was plucked clean from his fingers by a pissed Michael.

"I don't hate him!"

Brian smiled a little. "It's okay though," he said arrogantly, "because I've worked out why."

"Oh," Michael said, looking out the window to avoid his friends beautiful face and knowing eyes.

"Want me to tell you?"

"Oh please do," Michael scorned, he was breathing the shit in deeply now. He really needed to feel it working, loosening him up. "Enlighten me with your superior knowledge."

And Brian smiled a little more. "It's because you're jealous."

"Jealous?" The shorter man scoffed, looking over his shoulder at the other man before returning to watching the rain and taking another drag.

Shit! The thing had gone out. "You think I'm jealous?"

"No" Brian answered. "I _know_ you're jealous." He was so confident that he was right and, Michael thought, he had every right to be … because he was right.

Michael felt Brian's body press up against his back as the taller man's strong arms wrapped around his waist and his lips come up to the skin just his ear and kissed him sweetly. Then, he whispered, "but it's okay. You don't have to be. I still love you best, Mikey."

Michael angled his head so he could see Brian's face and he smiled and kissed him on the chin because that was the only place he could reach. Brian bent his neck a little further and kissed him gently on the lips, a reassuring friendly kiss. Or at least that's what Brian had intended it to be but next second he felt Michael's tongue lap at his bottom lip as the shorter man grabbed his hand and slid it down his body until he reached the bulge at his crotch. Brian smiled into the kiss and pulled away gently removing his hand from dangerous territory.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly and giggling a little bit.

"Nothing," Michael answered in the same voice, looking away and back out of the window. "Must be the drugs."

"Yeah," Brian agreed, pressing another careful kiss against his best friends cheek. "Anyway, must get back to the kitchen. What's a party without it's guest of honour? You coming?"

"In a moment," Michael sighed.

"Okay."

Michael didn't look at Brian as he left the conservatory. He didn't dare to. He couldn't bear to face the man who'd just rejected him … again. Michael wasn't sure why he'd thought this time it would be any different from every other time he'd tried to elevate his relationship with Brian to anything more than friendship. Brian had been slowly and systematically stopping his advances ever since they were fifteen and yet, Michael couldn't stop trying. He couldn't stop loving him, no matter how much he wanted to or how hard he tried.

He stared as the rain poured and the puddles filled up and the darkness engulfed everything. And he felt like this dark, damp, shitty weather was a weak metaphor for the darkness in his heart because all that was in Michael's heart was unrequited love and denial that he cared both festering and fermenting deep down inside him, biding their time, waiting until they too, would cause the perfect storm.


	7. Chapter 6: Part 2

"I don't think Michael likes me very much," Justin said, passing a plate to Emmett so that the taller man could dry it and put it away. Emmett smiled a little at the honest naivety of his younger friend.

"It's not that he doesn't like you, sweetie," the taller man said being as diplomatic as he could. "It's more that he doesn't like the situation."

"The 'being stuck in a house in the middle of nowhere for months on end' situation?"

"No, the 'being stuck in a house in the middle of nowhere for months on end with a kid who's fucking the love of your life' situation."

Justin stopped scrubbing the dish for a second as he tried to work out if he'd understood Emmett's comment correctly. "Michael loves Brian? For how long?"

"Oh, only ever since they met," Emmett said cheerily, taking the dish from Justin's still hands and drying it off.

"But Brian fucks loads of guys," Justin frowned, picking up spatula and beginning to scrub it, "you've all said it. Does Michael hate all of them?"

"No. To Brian sex is like a handshake … usually," he smiled knowingly at the kid. "He greets you, he fucks you, he never sees you again and if he does, he doesn't remember who you are. Except for you. You are different. Brian's never been like this before with anyone and Michael doesn't like it because now you're a threat."

"I'm not a threat," Justin chuckled, handing over the spatula and moving on to a glass, "I'm convenient. Brian's told me that plenty of times."

"And how many times has he sounded like he meant it?" Emmett smiled, leaving Justin with something to think about as he walked across the vast kitchen to put the newly washed and dried dishes away.

::

The rest of Brian's birthday, just like every other day in this house, began to drag as it reached early afternoon. The rain had faded into a light drizzle so Brian, Ted, Emmett and Michael had gone into the garden to try out Brian's new gun. Justin had asked to go with them but Brian had told him he was too young to be messing about with firearms. It was bullshit. Ted had told him that Brian had his first gun when he was sixteen but now he, Justin, at the age of eighteen wasn't allowed to have a go. What a fucking hypocrite!

Justin had watched them through the French doors in the kitchen for a while. He'd had his face pressed against the glass, like a child at a zoo and watched with interest as the men had taken it in turns to shoot at various targets around the small patch of grass they were using as a shooting range.

Justin wasn't particularly surprised to find out that Ted was almost completely incapable of firing a gun. His hand eye coordination was less than zero and looked lost when trying to aim. Emmett had fantastic aim, though he looked almost uncomfortable about that fact and barely took any shots at all. Michael was a good shot too but he looked like he'd had to practice hard for years and years to hone his skill. He certainly wasn't a natural at it like Emmett … or Brian. Because of course Brian was a natural shot. He looked completely at home with a gun in his hand and he was well practiced too. He looked like he was born to do this and Justin thought that that should probably have scared him but he was having a very different reaction to seeing Brian deftly shooting cans balanced on a trashcan of a branch of a tree. A warm shiver of desire ran down Justin's spine and he almost let out a groan. God, he wanted Brian. He always wanted him but seeing him stand like that, confident, sexy, beautiful and dangerous, it just made the thirst all the more intense.

He got bored, eventually, of watching the firing practice, that and he was sick of Michael looking up and spotting him and then saying something to the others that Justin was sure could only be negative. He really was sick of the abuse he got from Michael. He understood that as the youngest he was going to be picked on to a certain extent. Brian, Ted and Emmett pretty much used him as their personal errand boy forcing him to do their menial but undesirable jobs. He also endured being the butt of a lot of light-hearted ribbing and none of that bothered him. But with Michael it was different. It was malicious and spiteful like Michael was always trying to make him look stupid and put him down. As Michael looked up at him and whispered something to Ted, Justin decided enough was enough and opted to find something else to occupy his time. It didn't take him long to decide to work on a birthday present for Brian. It would give him a chance to do some of his art and it would allow him to avoid watching his own face fly around the screen on Pittsburgh News. So, he went up to his and Brian's bedroom and began to sketch furiously in his pad.

::

It was early evening when Brian walked into his bedroom to find Justin hunched over on the floor, completely engrossed in his furious scribbling onto a piece of paper.

"What are you doing?" He asked, causing the kid to jump a little.

"Shit," Justin gasped. "I didn't see you."

"Yeah you were too caught up with this." Brian waved his hand at the notebook dismissively. "What is it?"

"It's your birthday present," Justin said offhandedly, placing the sketchpad, face down, on the carpet. "So how was your shooting?"

"Yeah, it went well," Brian said offhandedly before adding curiously, "birthday present?"

"I didn't get chance to get you anything," Justin explained, trying not to sound too angry, "so I thought I'd draw you something."

"You're an artist?"

"Sort of," the kid blushed. "But this isn't finished yet so you'll have to wait."

"Well, maybe while I'm waiting, you could give me your other present in the shower." Brian was dripping wet from the drizzling rain, there was a droplet at the end of his nose waiting to fall, his hair was plastered to his forehead and he was probably freezing but god he was beautiful and Justin thought back to the way he'd been so commanding with that gun and he was on his feet rushing into the shower in milliseconds.

::

Emmett decided to give Justin a night off the cooking duties, so as the nelliest of the group pranced around the kitchen, the rest of the boys settled down in the sitting room. The Justin Taylor kidnapping story had begun to take a backseat in the Pittsburgh News, thanks mainly to the suspicious disappearance of a drama student and her best friend ("they're lesbians and they've run off together," Brian said firmly as the police explained how clueless they were, "there's nothing mysterious about it. Well, except for the mystery as to why anyone would want to be a lesbian") and the Pirate's appalling start to the season ("this isn't news," was Brian's comment this time, "they always have a shit start to the season"). So, Brian had decided that the televisions could be used to watch something other than the news in the evenings, though Ted always had his laptop computer loaded with the 24 hour news homepage just in case there was any kind of break in the story.

It was a shame really that Justin was so engrossed in his drawing that he didn't have chance to enjoy his evening off as house skivvy and just watch the television but he was determined to get this picture finished no matter what.

"I don't want to watch this shit," Michael moaned as Brian found some old black and white movie on a Classic Movies channel.

"Would you rather we found some Spiderman Movie?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't make us watch it because I can appreciate that some people may not want to watch it."

"Well," Brian said, aiming the remote quite viciously at Michael, "good luck finding something for me, you and Ted want to watch."

"What about your little puppy?" Michael asked, indicating Justin, who was sat cross-legged on the floor right next to Brian's feet. "Doesn't he get a say?"

"He's not watching," Brian said, trying to get a look at whatever Justin was drawing over his shoulder but the kid manoeuvred himself perfectly so Brian caught nothing more than an indecipherable glimpse of a shaded area. Sighing, he turned back to Michael, "come on, choose a show."

Michael flicked through the hundreds of channels at an infuriatingly slow pace until he eventually opted for Who Wants to Be A Millionaire?

"What a stupid question," Ted commented. "Name one person who doesn't want to be a millionaire."

Brian raised his hand slowly and Michael and Ted looked at him curiously before he explained, "I already am one. And I didn't need a stupid game show."

"No, just a gun and a level of ruthlessness second only to Vlad the Impaler," Ted replied sarcastically.

"Well, would you listen to that, Theodore's been brushing up on his history," Brian said with faux-politeness.

"Will you two shut up," moaned Michael, "I'm trying to hear the question."

"It's written at the bottom of the screen Mikey," Brian pointed out in a tone that was dripping condescension. "See that bit 'homeowners buy surge protectors to protect their possessions from unexpected surges of what'?"

"Well everyone knows that it's water flow," Michael said confidently.

Brian and Ted just shot him a disbelieving look, even Justin looked up from his drawing to say, "if I were you Michael, I'd phone a friend."

Brian laughed a little but Michael just remained in ignorant denial. "Well, that's because you're barely out of kindergarten and you don't know shit. The answers B, water flow."

"Are you serious?" Justin asked, a smirk running all over his face as the man on the screen also confidently said, "B".

"See," Michael looked smugly at Justin. "Don't worry boy wonder, better luck next time."

Ted let out a low whistle before mumbling, "this is going to be embarrassing," as the correct answer was revealed to be in fact 'A', electric current.

The awkward tension in the room was palpable. Everyone was looking anywhere but at the cringing Michael, who wore the same shocked, disbelieving expression as the incorrect contestant on the TV. The silence was heavy and pressured by the unquenchable need to laugh and the desperate will not to until Justin couldn't hold on anymore and exploded into giggles, which he quickly tried to hide under a cough.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" Michael demanded, glaring at him with pure murder in his eyes.

"I didn't," Justin said in faux innocence.

"Bullshit," Michael snapped.

"Give him a break Mikey," Brian butted in, an amused grin plastered across his face. "You got the $100 question wrong, the kid's allowed to laugh."

"Fuck you," Michael turned his glare on his best friend. "It was an easy mistake to make."

"Yeah if you're simple," Brian countered, which sent Justin into another fit of giggles.

"Shut the fuck up," Michael shouted at the kid. "You weren't even watching the TV. Why don't you go back to," he eyed the notepad sceptically, "what is that anyway?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Brian said, leaning forward to try and peer over Justin's shoulder for a second time but the kid was ready and immediately hid what he was drawing from view by clutching it to his chest.

"I already told you," Justin said firmly, scooting closer to Brian's leg and resting his chin on the older man's knee, "it's a birthday present. I'm nearly finished."

"But I've already had all the birthday present I wanted from you," Brian drawled, his fingers creeping automatically into Justin's hair, "in the shower."

Justin smiled and Ted shook his head in a fond, admiring sort of way. Michael just allowed his scowl to consume his face even more, screwing it up so much he looked like one of those ugly bulldogs. Brian spotted his friend's face immediately and chided,

"cheer up Mikey, it could have been worse. You could have got the $100 question wrong on national television."

Justin started laughing but Michael only managed to look more miserable.

"Maybe you should put a different program on," Justin suggested. "Like 'Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader?" He grinned cheekily at Michael as Brian practically fell about. Even solemn Ted snorted a little.

"Why are some of your classmates on the show this week?" Michael scorned.

"You know, this young shit is getting kind of boring," Justin sighed.

"You're getting kind of boring," Michael retorted.

"And your comebacks are lame."

"You're lame!"

"Case and point," Justin muttered, turning around to pick up his notebook and go back to his drawing.

It was so close to being finished, a few more patches of shading and he'd be able to give it to Brian. He just hoped he'd like it and wouldn't laugh in his face but he had a feeling he wouldn't. Or at least he hoped he wouldn't at least not if he gave it to him alone.

They watched a few more of the questions were asked on Millionaire. Brian got most of them right, Ted got all of them right and Michael didn't open his mouth once. Justin was too engrossed in finishing his picture that barely noticed anything that wasn't his drawing. He didn't even notice Emmett in his pink 'kiss the chef' apron, flutter into the room and announce,

"Dinner is served."

He didn't notice Ted get up from the sofa, groaning and stretching before strolling to the kitchen. He didn't notice Michael get up and leave either. He probably wouldn't have noticed Brian leaving if the older man hadn't given him a kick on the way past.

"You coming?" he asked as he got to the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Justin said barely looking up from his work. "I'll be right there."

"Well, don't leave it too long," Brian said, "you know what those boys are like, they'll be nothing left."

::

Brian walked through to the kitchen and quickly realized that even if Justin didn't come in the room for another two weeks there'd still be plenty of food for him.

"Christ Emmylou," Brian said as a plate was shoved into his hands and Emmett told him to help himself from the buffet.

"It's great isn't it?" Ted beamed, piling his plate with as much food as would fit on. "There's enough food here to feed an army."

"Two armies," Brian muttered his agreement. He wasn't particularly hungry, he was never particularly hungry, but especially not today, he'd had a huge meal

for breakfast and two pieces of cake. The last thing he needed were more calories but he put a bit of the salad on his plate and a piece of chicken.

"Come on," Michael said enthusiastically, his mouth full of food. "Live a little. Try this pasta, it's delicious." He scooped a large spoonful of pasta in marinara sauce onto Brian's plate.

"That's great," Brian frowned. "Thanks Mikey."

"Just try it," the shorter man insisted. "It's the best thing I've ever tasted," his eyes fixed straight over Brian's shoulder as he continued, "definitely the best meal since we've been at this house."

Brian peered over his shoulder to see what Michael was looking at. Unsurprisingly, he saw it was Justin, who was just stood glaring back.

"Er, yes well," Ted interrupted, coughing slightly. "Where did you get the recipe for this Emmett?"

"Well I …"

"I'm sick of all this shit Michael!" Justin exploded suddenly taking everyone in the room by surprise. "Why don't you just say it? You hate me."

"I don't hate you, boy wonder. I think you're a bit over-sensitive. Still, it's to be expected … at your diminutive age."

"Fuck you!" Justin yelled and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The whole house seemed to shake with the force of it and Michael just smirked to himself as another door slammed and Justin could be seen through the French doors marching across the garden away from the house.

"Stupid kid," he muttered under his breath, before sitting down and tucking into his meal. He didn't notice the pissed expressions on Ted and Emmett's face.

The only expression he noticed was the puzzled look Brian was shooting him.

"What?" he demanded his mouth full of pasta. Ted and Emmett turned to look at Brian. They weren't sure what they were expecting, maybe for Brian to stick up for the kid. Maybe for him to tell Michael to get the fuck over all this ridiculous jealousy but all he actually said was,

"Where the fuck did you learn the word diminutive?"

"Jesus Christ," Emmett muttered disapprovingly. He put down his food down as though to follow the kid but as he reached the door Brian stuck an arm out in front of him and said simply, "don't."

Emmett looked into Brian's face and he saw he was serious, deadly serious. So, reluctantly, Emmett nodded and returned to his plate of food. It was probably for the best in the long run anyway. They still didn't know how long they were going to be stuck in this house and if Emmett walked out of that room now, he'd be as good as drawing the battle lines for this seemingly imminent war. He'd have declared himself on Justin's side and the house would have been split. They didn't need internal fighting when they had to battle the whole fucking world together.

The meal was strained and awkward. Emmett in particular kept opening his mouth as if to say something before thinking better of it and shutting it again. Brian knew what Emmett was thinking because he was thinking the same thing. Why the fuck was Michael being so horrible to the kid? It wasn't like him. Michael was the kind of person who gave everyone a chance but not Justin. He hadn't even pretended to give him a chance.

Eventually, Ted managed to open up a boring conversation about where the police were currently searching for them and it was enough to break the silence for a while. Towards the end of the meal, Michael raised his glass in a toast to Brian and the others joined him. This time, thank god, he kept the speech short.

They'd been sitting eating and drinking for half an hour when it really came to Brian's attention that Justin still hadn't returned. It wasn't like the kid to miss a meal, he loved his food. Brian's eyes had been flicking to the window all night. He hadn't seen Justin come back, he hadn't heard the door go and it was getting late. He doubted the kid had taken a coat, Justin didn't always think sensibly about things like that and Brian was getting worried. After all, if Justin was caught by the police or even spotted by anyone who happened to recognize him they were all as good as arrested.

He must have been staring out of the window because he was suddenly made aware of Michael's hand waving right in front of his nose.

"Brian," he was calling in a sing-song voice. "Brian, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," Brian snapped, catching Michael's hand and twisting it a little, "if you get your fucking hand of my face."

"Ow, hurting," Michael hissed, retrieving his and nursing it to his chest. Brian just looked at Michael, an expression of contempt before saying,

"I'll be right back." He pushed himself to his feet, pulled on a leather jacket before marching out the French doors.

"Where are you going?" Michael demanded. "Never go after anyone, that's what you said. What do you think yo-" But Brian shut the door on his best friend cutting him off mid-word. He was really sick of his pissy attitude today.


	8. Chapter 6: Part 3

The moon was full in the sky, giving the grounds an eerie, ghostly silver look that made Brian shudder. He squinted into the shadowed patches under the trees but he couldn't see any sign of the kid. He felt like he'd been walking forever when he finally saw the kid huddled up on a stone bench near a huge pond. Or perhaps that should be lake. Brian walked over in silence and sat down. His presence made Justin jump.

"Shit," he hissed, rubbing his arms with his hands. "I didn't see you."

"Hmm," Brian nodded. "What the fuck are you doing out here? You're fucking freezing."

"I-I acted like a st-stupid kid," Justin stammered, shivering violently. "I sh-shouldn't l-let him g-get t-to me." Then after a second or two, he leant down and picked up some gravel from around the bench. "D-did you kn-know there was a p-pond?" He asked, throwing a couple of stones into the water and disturbing the reflection of the moon on the surface, with perfect circular ripples.

"No," Brian shook his head just as one of Justin's arms came into contact with Brian's hand causing him to jump violently.

"Jesus Christ," Brian said, putting his hand to Justin's frozen skin. It was rough with Goosebumps and icy cold. "Here," he said, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and putting it around Justin before dragging him close. He rubbed his hands up and down Justin's arms, desperately trying to warm him up as the bitter night air began to bite at his own skin. "And don't worry about how you acted. You're eighteen. Eighteen year olds are allowed to slam doors … once in a while," he added firmly. "But don't make it a habit."

Justin nodded against Brian's chest.

"I'm s-sorry. Michael j-just got t-to me. I th-think it was the l-last st-straw."

"Last straw of what?"

"N-nothing."

Brian just raised an eyebrow questioningly as he pushed the kid away a little so he could look into those blue eyes and hopefully force the truth. It worked.

"Everything," Justin sighed, putting his head back on Brian's chest. "I'm s-scared, Brian. I'm scared the p-police will c-come and t-take you away. I'm scared my d-dad will g-get me. I'm scared of the f-fact you guys carry around g-guns c-constantly. I'm scared of never s-seeing my mum again."

And suddenly the kid was crying heavily into Brian's shirt. He could feel salty tears soaking through his shirt but he didn't worry about it, he just pulled the kid closer because he didn't know what else to do. He wasn't good with emotions, Emmett would be much better than him at this but he was the one who'd decided to go after the kid and now it was his responsibility to comfort him or at least try to.

"Don't think about it," he whispered. "Don't think about the police, I told you they're not your problem, they're mine. Your dad won't get anywhere near you as long as I'm around and you're bound to miss your mum but don't worry. She'll be fine. And Mikey …" Brian sighed heavily. "Michael doesn't hate you. He just…"

"He's in l-love with you," Justin finished for him, sniffing a little. Brian frowned. "Emmett t-told me."

"Hmm, did he?" Brian asked and Justin couldn't help feel that he might have got Emmett into trouble.

"B-but I-I g-guess I knew anyway," Justin added quickly. "I-it's obvious r-really." Justin shivered again as a particularly sharp breeze blew over them.

"Come on," Brian said, pulling the kid to his feet. "Let's get you inside."

"W-wait," Justin stammered, holding up a piece of paper in his hand that had been rolled into a cylinder. "H-happy b-birthday," he whispered. "I was going to g-give it to you at dinner b-but …." He trailed off looking somewhat embarrassed. "H-here."

Brian took the paper and unrolled it. It was unbelievable, a perfect likeness, like looking at himself in the mirror. It was just the top of his shoulders and his head but it was perfect. He looked stern in the picture but his eyes seemed kind and gentle and Brian realized that this was how Justin saw him, this beautiful creature who was both harsh and kind and he decided he liked being looked at like this. It was better that being feared or being despised. This was different, it was real.

"It's excellent," Brian smiled and looked at Justin to see the kid beaming back at him.

"R-really?"

"Really," Brian nodded. "Now, come on. Let's get you inside and warm you up," he grinned wolfishly and Justin had no doubt as to what Brian had in mind to warm them up.

Of course, it wasn't that easy. As soon as they opened the door to the house, Emmett was there fussing around Justin like a fly around horseshit.

"Oh baby. Are you okay? You're freezing. Get a warm shower now before you catch Pneumonia."

Ted had very little to say on the evening's events, though Ted seldom had much to say about anything and Justin figured that was one of the reason's Brian liked him so much. Michael also kept his mouth firmly shut. He was receiving evil, warning glares from Emmett and Justin couldn't help wonder if Emmett had said something after Brian had left. Either way, Michael didn't have one single comment to make as Brian rushed the kid shivering and shaking up the stairs and into their giant bathroom. Luckily, Brian always had a way of making things heat up.

* * *

They were laying sated under the warm duvet with the heating turned up to full blast when Justin started giggling, saying something about if he closed his eyes he felt like he was in a warm tropical place. Brian smiled a little but the thick, heavy, post-fuck tiredness was dragging him out of the chatty mode. He was on that vulnerable line between wake and sleep.

"I didn't find the tennis courts," Justin babbled from about a foot away.

"Mm," Brian mumbled because that was all he could manage now.

"I was looking for them. I've been trying to spot them ever since we arrived but I still don't know where they are."

"Do you play tennis?" Brian asked, he was tired that even his lips were barely opening and the question came out as a soft, whispered murmured. The answer was a loud snort and a giggle.

"No! Do I look like the kind of person who can play tennis?"

"No," Brian conceded, his words still dripping with exhaustion. "But you didn't look like the kind of person who could draw either so…."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," Justin smiled rolling on to his stomach so that he could prop himself up on his elbows and look at the older man.

"Please," Brian scorned, his eyes sliding open a little so he could look up to see the younger man's face. "You're eighteen. There's virtually nothing to learn about you."

"Fine," the kid replied huffily. "But I bet there's a lot I don't know about you."

"Too much," Brian confirmed lazily.

"What does that mean?"

"It means 'don't ask'."

"But I'm curious," Justin whined.

"You're nosey," Brian corrected.

"Okay, nosey," he conceded. "Just answer one question."

"One?" Brian opened one eye fully to see a flushed, excited look on the kids face.

"Yeah," Justin nodded.

"Okay, one question," Brian conceded, not because he was willing to give out information about himself or his past to this kid but because he was interested to know what question the kid would choose.

"Right," Justin nodded thoughtfully. He seemed to think hard for a second before deciding on, "did you play sport?"

Brian looked at the other man and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "I let you ask me any question in the world and that is what you went for?"

Justin shrugged. "I don't want to know your deepest darkest secrets," he said truthfully. "I just wanna know what your favourite TV show is? How you did in school, whether or not you played sports."

Brian looked puzzled for a moment as something strange washed over him. He felt normal, like not everyone was out to get him or had a secret agenda. He felt like he could lie in bed with Justin and just talk; not plot, not plan, not fuck, just talk. So he answered the question.

"I played soccer in high school."

Justin smiled, "really?"

"Yeah, I was good at it too."

"I'm sure you were," Justin chuckled.

"The coach said I could have gotten a scholarship to college but I think he was more impressed with my ball skills in the changing room showers than my ball skills on the pitch."

Justin's eyebrows shot up and he chucked a little as he said, "you fucked your gym teacher?"

His fingers were running lightly over Brian's chest now. It was as if the kid couldn't bear to not have some kind of contact with him at all times but Brian didn't mind.

"I didn't fuck my gym teacher," Brian smirked. "He was straight … but he used to let me suck him off."

"How old were you?"

"Fourteen the first time," Brian smiled at the memory. "Seventeen the last time, it was right after that that he got arrested."

"Fourteen is really young."

Brian nodded thoughtfully, "but I wanted him," then he smirked, "and he loved it."

"I'm sure he did," Justin grinned back. "So what happened after he got arrested?"

"I thought I said only one question," Brian frowned causing Justin to roll his eyes. "That must be at least three."

"Fine," Justin said, "don't tell me."

It was quiet for a couple of moments, the only movement was Justin's fingers dancing along Brian's ribs and then Brian said "the case went to court," and Justin was all ears again. "There were three of us that he'd supposedly taken advantage of but I was the only one who actually showed up in court. They were trying him for rape and using his authority to get what he wanted but I told him I was compliant, more than compliant and the old fagot got off with statutory rape. He lost his job obviously but he only had a fourteen year sentence. It would probably have been less if I'd been some cheerleader with big tits but he was facing life at the beginning of it all. The fat fuck got off lightly thanks to me."

"My hero," Justin smiled.

"It was a pretty big case," Brian continued, "the news followed it. You know how much breeders love a teacher/student sex scandal and a queer sex scandal was like Christmas come early for the Republicans."

"I bet."

It was quiet then and when Justin looked into Brian's face, he could see the older man's expression was strained and his eyes were unfocused as he stared blankly at a point on the ceiling. He was thinking about something, something unpleasant but Justin didn't know what the hell it could be.

"That night," Brian said, in a strange, distant almost wooden voice, "I got back to my parents house pretty late. I opened the door and Jack was stood there with this look on his face. I'd never seen him so angry. He grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt and he got right in my face and said, 'I saw your little performance on TV, sonny boy. Have you got something you want to tell your old man, you fucking fairy?' His breath stank of whiskey, he was drunk out of his mind and he was furious. His eyes were black and hollow, completely cold and full of hate. That's when I realized he was going to kill me."

Justin nearly gasped but he managed to hold it in. He was sure that any noise now would break the spell, stop Brian from talking and he didn't want that, he just kept still and kept quiet and Brian kept retelling his past.

"He slammed me against a wall and I hit my head so hard I nearly passed out maybe it would have been better if I had. He let me fall to the floor and kicked me. I curled into a ball, begged him to stop but he just kept kicking. I even grabbed onto his leg hoping it would make him stop but he just slammed my back against the wall. The last thing I remembered before I passed out was my mom stood watching as she downed another glass of wine."

Justin could feel the tears starting to well up inside him but he didn't think Brian was finished yet, so he pushed them away and listened.

"When I woke up," Brian said, he was speaking so softly now that Justin had to lean in to hear him, "I was alone in hospital. The doctors told me I was brought in by my sister but she'd gone now and she never came back to visit. She was a bitch but I probably owe her my life. It'd gotten away with two cracked ribs, concussion, a black eye, a twisted ankle and a broken nose." Suddenly, he looked at Justin and smiled weakly, "You asked once why I wheeze a little when I breath and Mikey told you I had a deviated septum."Justin nodded, he remembered.

"Well that's how it happened," Brian said softly. "A kick in the face from my old man." Then he forced a smile, "it's amazing I managed to stay this hot."

"Oh Brian," Justin sobbed suddenly, putting his head on Brian's chest and holding him close. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Brian soothed, running his hand down Justin's back. "It was a long time ago."

"But I…" Justin stopped. There was nothing he could say that would help in this situation and the thought of Brian being nearly killed by his father only reminded him of his own father and soon he was crying even harder. And it was so fucked up because Brian was the one comforting him when it was supposed to be the other way around.

"I'm sorry," Justin sobbed. "It's just … it reminds me of my dad and how he was going to," Justin paused and then whispered quietly, "kill me."

"And my dad tried to kill me."

"So you ran away," Justin sniffed, "and became a criminal."

"And you ran away with a dangerous gang."

"Our dads have a lot to answer for," Justin said with a watery smile.

"They certainly do," Brian agreed and then he kissed the younger man and it was different from all their kisses before. This wasn't leading anywhere. This wasn't because it was the only way to get close before clothes were shed. This wasn't because there were no other options. This was just … because.

When Brian pulled back, he slipped his arms around Justin's waist and held him close. The kid rested his head on Brian's chest and that was how they stayed until the sun told them it was time to wake up.


	9. Chapter 7

**Thanks, as always, to the wonderful Boriqua522.**

* * *

Brian didn't feel like he'd been in hiding out for that long, maybe because a certain young blonde was keeping his attention more than occupied and possibly because he was actually enjoying his time in the middle of nowhere with his surrogate family. Alright, he was nervous about the police and he wouldn't let-up for one second about how important the security of the house was but, as the Justin Taylor kidnapping began to get less and less publicity, Brian began to become more and more optimistic about time after the house. Though, that had brought about problems of its own like what the fuck was he going to do with the kid. He liked to think he'd be able to just push him away and move on with his own life but he was pretty sure by now that he wouldn't be able to go on without Justin annoying him and making him laugh and calling him on his shit and allowing him to open up and say things he'd never told anyone, not even Michael. But at the same time, he was so wrong for Justin. He would hurt him and let him down and he didn't want to put the kid through it. So the slowly approaching day of freedom was beginning to feel like the fast approaching day of hell.

"What's the date?" Justin asked as he idly doodled in his sketch book. His sketches had started appearing all over their bedroom and Justin's old bedroom, which he'd taken to using as a bit of a studio or a storage area for his work. He'd even started painting after he asked Ted to bring some paints back from his and Michael's weekly outing into the real world … or at least to the Big Q.

"13th of December," Brian answered. He was looking at a new bit of equipment that Ted had put together. It was a GPS but had the added advantage of being able to tell you where the nearest speed cameras and police cars were. It was impressive, very impressive.

"Shit," Justin whispered. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Is the thirteenth relevant in some way?"

"No. It's just been exactly three months since we moved into the place."

"Oh."

"Do you miss the outside world?"

"The world, no," Brian answered firmly. "The sane conversation, yes."

"Asshole," Justin muttered but he was grinning as he went back to his drawing. It was a couple of blissful moments of silence before he spoke again, "you know what else the 13th of December means?"

"No," Brian replied trying, and failing, to sound pissed at the interruptions.

"It's twelve days till Christmas."

"So?" Brian frowned, knowing exactly where Justin was _wrongly_ going with this.

"So … shouldn't you have bought me a Partridge in a Pear Tree?"

Brian sighed heavily. "There's two things wrong with that sentence. One, the twelve days of Christmas start _after_ Christmas not before it. And secondly, I'm not your true love."

Justin just smiled a little and under his breath he said, "we'll see."

"What was that?" Brian asked.

"Er … I said, 'where's Emmett'?"

"I don't know," the older man shrugged, "in the conservatory? Why do you want him?"

"I want to know if it's time to open the door on the advent calendar."

"Oh that stupid fucking thing."

"And that reaction is exactly the reason why I want to ask Emmett," Justin laughed, pushing himself to his feet and going off to find the other man.

The so called advent calendar was a bit of a joke. It was something only Emmett and Justin did because only they were actually excited about Christmas day and god knows why because it was just going to be the five of them in this house, just like every single other day for the last three months. There was bound to be an argument and there was bound to be some kind of fire and way too much food and no presents. Just another pointless exercise as far as Brian was concerned. He'd never celebrated Christmas in his life; it was just a chance to spend more time in church when he was a kid and as he'd grown up he'd never really seen a point in it.

"Hey," Michael entered the sitting room and sat down on the large sofa, which Justin had just vacated. Brian wasn't sure if they were doing it on purpose but Justin and Michael were very rarely in the same room at the same time these days.

"Hey."

"Where's the boy wonder?" Michael asked, looking around as though he expected the kid to leap out and attack him.

"He's gone to find Emmett," Brian explained. "They're going to open the calendar."

"Christ, that thing's getting on my nerves."

Brian just raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Why's it getting on your nerves? You have an advent calendar every year at your mom's house."

"Yeah, well that's just to keep Ma happy."

"Bullshit," Brian chuckled, "I watched you last year; trying to guess what picture was going to be behind the door before you opened it, getting to eat the chocolates if you guessed right. It was pathetic."

"You used to play when you were fifteen."

"And I won every single one of the chocolates."

Michael scowled a little, "I still can't believe you bought the same fucking calendar just so you could open the doors early to check what the answer was going to be."

"I still can't believe you didn't figure out I was cheating," Brian countered with a bit of a smirk. "I mean twenty five correct guesses in a row is obviously more than luck, Mikey."

"I was giving you the benefit of the doubt."

"Uh-huh," Brian chuckled in a completely disbelieving tone. "I was a good friend though, I gave you the calendar chocolate on Christmas day."

"Yeah, instead of a present," Michael cried indignantly. Fifteen years had passed but he was still pissed.

"I had no money and my parents hated me," Brian shrugged, "you should have been grateful you even got that."

"I was," Michael admitted sheepishly causing Brian to look up and smile a little.

"I was grateful for your present too," the taller man admitted.

"You said you hated that Captain Astro action figure."

"Christ not that ugly thing. I _did_ hate that," Brian shuddered dramatically. "In fact, I gave it back to you if I remember correctly."

"Yeah, for my birthday," Michael protested but he was laughing a little.

"I'm sure it was what you wanted," Brian said but Michael noticed he was smiling a bit. "But I wasn't talking about _that_ present."

"So what present were you talking about?"

"The fact that you let me stay and have Christmas lunch with your family. There was you and Deb and your uncle Vic and that rich old guy your mom was ripping off at the time."

"Jacob Jacobsen," Michael remembered.

"Yeah, that's the one. And your mom made way too much food and me and you had a competition to see who could eat the most chocolate cake for dessert."

"And you won."

"Naturally, but don't feel bad. It was only because I'd been starved for three days running up to the event," Brian said. "And then, we sat down to watch _It's a Wonderful Life_ and your mom and Vic got all weepy at the end."

"So we cheered them up with a song."

"I don't remember that bit," Brian said abruptly but the way he said it told Michael he did remember it perfectly.

"Sure you do," Michael chuckled. "You sang and we played our guitars. It was the punk version of We Wish You A Merry Christmas."

"No," Brian was shaking his head firmly, "you must have me mistaken with another Brian."

Michael laughed even harder and then sighed. "I guess it's not going to be like that this year."

"I guess not," Brian answered in the same resigned tone.

"This'll be the first Christmas I'll spend away from Ma." He looked at his best friend to gage a reaction but Brian didn't move. "It won't be the same without her." He checked again but still Brian's face was blank. "In fact, I was thinking maybe we could invite her to this house…"

"Don't even think about it," Brian said firmly.

"But Bri…"

"No. We can't risk it. The news crews aren't going to know everything the police have found out about us. For all we know, they might be watching Deb's house … and watching Deb. If they are and she suddenly makes a trip to West Virginia on Christmas day they're going to follow. I'm not risking everyone's safety so that you can have your mom over at Christmas."

"Not risking everyone's safety," Michael scoffed. "It's your fault we're in this fucking mess in the first place. If you hadn't been so desperate to fuck that kid, none of this would have happened."

"Shut up, Mikey," Brian snapped. "It wasn't like that at all and you know it."

"Do I? All I can see is hypocrisy."

"Ooo," Brian mocked condescendingly, "little Mikey's learnt a big word."

"Fuck you Brian! I'm going to ask Ted what he thinks about the idea."

"He'll tell you it's a security risk," Brian called after him as Michael stormed out of the door.

Less than a second after Michael had disappeared, Justin reappeared. "Christ, are you two working on a fucking timer or something? What the fuck do you want?"

"Nothing," Justin said quickly. It was obvious Brian was in a shit mood and he'd learnt it was best not to bother him when he got like this. It would go away soon enough. "I just want my sketchbook."

Justin darted in, grabbed his book and left. No sooner had the door shut, Michael came stomping back in.

"This is getting fucking ridiculous," Brian muttered under his breath before asking a little louder in a condescending sing-song voice, "what did Theodore say?"

"He said it would be a security risk," Michael huffed. "It's not fair. I want to say Merry Christmas to my Ma."

"So phone her," Brian scowled. "Or use webcam. Ted's got one all set up."

Michael seemed to consider that before softening slightly.

"Great," he sulked. "Webcam it is."

::

"Brian's pissed," Justin said coming back into the kitchen and setting down his notepad.

"At you?"

"No … at least I don't think so. I think he's had a row with Michael."

"Those two are getting worse and worse," Emmett sighed, getting out a box of assorted chocolates and a piece of double layered cardboard with a snowman ice skating scene drawn on it. The cardboard had twenty five flaps, behind each of which Justin had draw little icons of Christmas for them to guess at.

"What do you mean?" The kid asked as he quickly located the 13th door on the homemade advent calendar.

"Honey, when I met them, after the event with Georgie, they were as thick as thieves, no pun intended."

Justin just smiled in response.

"But as time went on and the more obvious it became that Brian was never going to reciprocate Michael's feelings, the more they began to grow apart. And," Emmett lowered his voice, "between you and me, I think Michael wishes he could get out of this life."

"Why?"

"Sometimes the thrill of living on the edge is too much for some people. And it's not like he chose it. He's been pushed into it since he was born."

"I thought he and Brian decided to turn to this life after Brian's dad kicked him out."

"No," Emmett smiled. "Michael's mom is the infamous Midnight Mistress."

"Who?"

"The famous Lady of the Night, who used to get paid upfront before stealing everything in the house and leaving. Michael's never known any other life and I think he had some kind of Bonnie and Clyde fantasy about him and Brian." Emmett looked at Justin, "but it looks like Brian's found himself a new Bonnie," he said with a knowing smile and gentle tap to the kid's cheek. "So," he turned his attention to the calendar, "what do you think is going to be behind door number 13?"

"I think I drew an elf," Justin grinned.

"I think you drew a Christmas tree."

Justin opened the door to reveal a tiny sketch of an elf with a hammer in one hand and a toy train in the other.

"You win again," Emmett sighed, holding the box of chocolates up for the younger man to take one. "I think maybe we should have asked Teddy to buy us one from a shop," he sighed. "I didn't think you'd remember what was behind every door."

Justin laughed a little as he popped the chocolate triumphantly into his mouth and said, "I did tell you I have a photographic memory."

::

Brian's mood hadn't really improved by that evening. He and Michael were still barely talking to each other. The case had gone back to the number one spot on the Pittsburgh News channel because one of his past tricks had led the police to his loft. Then Ted had come to him and said that there was a small problem with the security system that meant he was going to have to turn it off for a couple of hours to get it fixed and it was then that Brian had discovered that Justin was missing and that no one seemed to know where he was. Emmett said the last he'd heard, Justin was off to find the Tennis courts with his sketchpad and a pencils but that had been ages ago and there was still no sign of the kid.

Brian sat in the living room, watching his face and his loft flash up on the TV as reporters explained how far the case had come and how this new lead had brought the police optimistically close to catching the gang, which Pennsylvania's media had now dubbed 'The OUTlaws'.

"Although the Police have received no ransom note as yet, Chief Stockwell still has every hope of finding the young man alive."

"I do not see," Stockwell drawled slowly, "any evidence to suggest that the young man, Jason…"

"It's Justin you thick shit," Brian muttered. Every singly fucking time this asshole had talked about the case he'd fucked up the name.

"…is anything other than alive and well. From the evidence gathered so far, we believe the kidnapping was some kind of sick attempt at a rescue which got out of hand."

"Daphne , best friend of Justin Taylor, had this to say:" A girl with big bushy hair appeared on the screen in front of the police department. "I bet it wasn't a kidnapping. It was a more like a … prison break. Justin's parents are totally out to get him because he's gay."

Brian just shook his head. It seemed crazy to him that people still cared about this but Justin Taylor had managed to gain the support of most of Pittsburgh as the country club, sexually confused teenager with a sweet angelic smile, who'd been taken by a gang of queers whilst they robbed his house. The whole of Pittsburgh and most of Pennsylvania were following the story and petitioning for him to come home. Brian just snorted at the idea. If only they knew the truth about how Justin wanted to stay more than Brian or the others wanted him around.

"So," the male anchor in the studio said, "are the OUTlaws evil lawbreakers or the anti-heroes of the gay community? We went down to Liberty Avenue to find out."

"Brian Kinney can kidnap me any day" was the opinion of a hot young guy coming out of the Babylon, whilst his friends laughed and murmured their agreement; "I'd let him do whatever he wanted to me" said one and "he could tie me up and tie me down and I wouldn't be struggling to get home," laughed another.

"It's a disgrace! It's these kind of people who put the gay rights movement back all the time. We're not all like that," was the opinion of some pretentious gay-studies professor at Carnegie Mellon.

"Brian Kinney's the lowest of the low. He's not a hero of gays, he's a criminal and a paedophile. He doesn't deserve respect or even the title of the anti-hero. He deserves our contempt. I hope he's brought to justice soon so that poor boy can get back to his life. If he's got a life to get back," said Howard Bellwether, the so called gay conscious of Pittsburgh.

"So," the anchor finished, "whether you believe this to be a kidnapping based on perversion and sexual gratification or whether you believe it was the OUTlaws attempt to save a young gay man from homophobic parents please keep on the lookout for anything suspicious and ring the hotline number at the bottom of the screen if you have any information." He gave a big cheesy grin as the co-anchor started to talk about further news.

The news team were about half way through a report on 'behind the scenes woes for the Stealers' when a loud crash from the kitchen caught Brian's attention. Painfully aware of the security system being down, he pulled his gun immediately out of his waistband and cocked it carefully, edging silently towards the kitchen. He pulled the partitioning door open and pointed his gun at …

"Emmett?" Brian growled. "What the fuck is going on?" All around the other man were pots and pans. There was a salad bowl on the floor which must have made the clattering noise and food stains all over the counter tops.

"I'm cooking dinner," Emmett shrugged. "Can you point the gun somewhere else … please?"

Brian put the safety back on his gun and replaced it in its usual place. "What's all this mess?"

"I tried to make something called," he consulted his cookbook, "Tequila pasta. But as you can see it's gone a bit wrong."

"A bit?" Brian scorned. "Where the fuck is Justin? Why isn't he cooking?"

"I still haven't seen him," Emmet shrugged.

"This is getting fucking ridiculous!" Brian exploded. "All the security cameras are down at the moment. We're totally blind and he goes wandering off on his own. How fucking stupid is he?"

"Worried about him?" Emmett smiled knowingly.

"Fuck off Honeycutt!" He spat. "And clean up this goddamn mess!"

"Yes sir," Emmett mocked with a bit of a salute but Brian chose to ignore it because he figured it he reacted when he was this wound up, he'd probably kill. The next person who crossed his path was going to get it, he knew that, and of course that particular role could fall to only one person….

::

They were half way through dinner, when a knock at the front door threw them completely.

"It's probably Justin," Emmett said, getting to his feet.

"Not so fast, Emmylou," Brian said immediately, pulling his gun out. "Ted, do we know if anyone other than us five is on the grounds."

"It's highly unlikely, Bri," Ted said confidently. "I checked all the camera's when I got the system back up and running and I couldn't see…"

"Theodore," Brian cut in sharply, "do we _know_ that no one else is on the grounds?"

"No," the older man shook his head.

"Right," Brian nodded, cocking his gun for the second time that day and walking towards the front door. "Emmett, you back me up."

"My gun's upstairs."

"Mikey, give Emmett your gun."

Michael reluctantly handed over his revolver and then got up to watch as the two men crept towards the door. Brian flung it open and pointed his gun right between the eyes of… Justin. Emmett breathed a heavy sigh of relief and handed the gun back to Michael but Brian didn't move, he kept the gun pointed right between the kids eyes.

"What's with the welcome?" Justin asked, smiling a little, though the look in Brian's eyes told him there was nothing to smile about. "Brian?" There was no answer. "Brian, put the gun down." Still no answer, not even a acknowledgment that he'd spoken.

"Brian," Emmett said warily from behind the man. "What are you doing?"

There was silence for a second, Michael, Emmett and Ted all looked at each other in confusion. Even Justin begged them with his eyes to help him but Brian was blocking their way. Justin gulped. Brian looked insane but a calm, collected kind of insane; the dangerous kind.

"Give me one reason," he muttered so that only Justin could hear him, "why I shouldn't put a cap in your skull?"

"Brian," Justin laughed nervously. "Don't be ridiculous, just let me in."

"I'm not being ridiculous," Brian spat. "You knew we had to turn off the cameras today and still you wandered out there on your own!"

"I'm a big boy I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" Brian asked incredulously. "If I pulled this trigger now, would you be able to take care of yourself?"

"I, er…"

"The world's a fucking dangerous place, Justin," Brian growled, finally lowering the gun and emitting a sigh of relief from Emmett and Ted, "and if you're not careful you're gonna end up dead just like your father wanted."

"Brian," Justin gasped in confusion and hurt. He could feel a lump building in his throat. That last jab had really cut him deep.

"Don't cry like some pathetic little fagot!"

"I'm not," Justin lied, as a solitary tear rolled down his cheek.

"Get the fuck in here," Brian barked, taking hold of the kid's shoulder and practically flinging him in through the door. "And from now on you don't leave here without telling at least one of us where you're going. What the fuck were you doing anyway?"

"Drawing this," Justin yelled, crumpled piece of paper at Brian and hitting him square in the chest before running up the stairs in anger and upset.

Brian waited until the stomping footsteps had faded from the stairs and the door to the room Justin was using as storage slammed shut. Then, he turned very calmly to the others, forced a smile and said, "well, I'm starved. Let's eat."

::

Justin decided to sleep in his tiny, dark, single room that night. Or at least he'd intended to but as he heard the faint clicks of the lights being turned off in the other's bedrooms and Ted's soft snoring fill the house he found himself feeling incredibly alone and scared. He tried to turn over and pretend Brian had his arms around him but it didn't work. He moved his pillow and cuddled up to it pretending it was Brian's strong lean body but that didn't work either. And then the owl started twit-tawooing outside his window. It was sat on the tree that covered his view and its orangey eyes were catching the moonlight in the spookiest way. And when something, probably the branches of the trees tapped the glass, Justin realized he couldn't stay in this room any longer. He got up and crept down the corridor towards Brian's room. He wasn't sure if the older man would let him in but he had to try.

He tapped on the door lightly and then opened it. The room was in pitch blackness but Justin could sense that Brian was awake. His breathing wasn't steady enough.

"Hey," he whispered from the door.

"I was wondering how long you'd stick it out in the other room," Brian said slowly, turning over away from the kid. "Though I was expecting it to be at least one night."

Brian didn't flip over and Justin didn't move. They both just remained like statues until eventually Brian spoke.

"Get in," he said. "That half of the bed is yours now. If you want to sleep in it, I'm not going to stop you."

Justin nodded, even though he knew he couldn't be seen. He felt his way carefully over to the bed before getting in, pulling the covers over his shoulders and turning away from Brian. He closed his eyes, reveling in the familiarity of the room, loving how this house had so quickly become his home. He'd never been this comfortable in a place in his life and although, hugging the edge of the bed with his back to Brian wasn't the most idyllic sleeping position, it was better than being alone in the other room. He felt Brian shifting around on the mattress but he didn't really think anything of it, he just assumed Brian couldn't sleep. It wasn't until he heard the creaking of the floorboard in the middle of the room that he realized Brian had actually got out of the bed. Justin leant over and flicked on the bedside lamp. He blinked in the orangey glow that it cast over the room and blinked again as he saw the older man stood in a pair of jeans in the middle of the room, creeping towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Justin asked, digging his knuckles into his eyes as though that would somehow help his tired eyes become accustomed to the offensive light.

"The other room," Brian replied in a low voice. "I know you're only in here because you don't like it in your room. It's not because you want to be anywhere near me and I…" he looked at the floor embarrassedly, "I don't exactly blame you. I'll go down there," he forced a bit of a smile, "leave you in peace."

"Brian," Justin said with a very soft chuckle in his voice. "Don't be ridiculous. Get back into bed."

"But…"

"Brian," Justin warned, his voice developing a bit of an edge but still soft and amused. "Stop being so hard on yourself. Come back here."

Brian stood still for a second, the only sound was Brian's slight wheezy breaths all thanks to his deviated septum. The moment seemed to drag on forever, Brian debating in his own head whether to stay or go? Eventually, he opted to stay and climbing back into the big bed, he muttered,

"you forgive me too easily. I don't deserve it."

Justin flipped over and found that Brian was as far away as it was possible to be in the bed, he was still turned away from the younger man and Justin was left to stare at the perfect muscular tones of his back. It was ridiculous, even his back was perfect.

"You forgive me too," Justin whispered, edging slightly closer to the other man and placing a hand tentatively on his shoulder. He felt him tense a little and then relax. "I'm sorry I scared you today. I should have told you where I was. It's just," he paused for a moment. "It's just I didn't think you'd care."

Brian winced at that, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before flipping over to look at the younger man. He looked beautiful, all meek and innocent and Brian felt even worse about what he'd done, what he'd said.

"Of course I care," Brian mumbled so quietly it barely sounded like words.

"What was that?" Justin asked, a cheeky glint in his eye.

"I said I care," Brian said more loudly but still refusing to meet the younger man's gaze.

"One more time," Justin giggled and then Brian realized what he was doing and shook his head, smiling fondly.

"Fuck off," he smirked.

"Oh thank god," Justin said with a display of over-the-top relief, taking one of Brian's hands in his own. "_There's_ the grumpy Brian Kinney I know and love. I thought I'd lost you for a second." He kissed the older man's hand, letting his lips linger for far longer than necessary until Brian grabbed the back of his head and brought him in for the real thing.

When they pulled apart, Brian kept their foreheads pressed together.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath mingling with Justin's. "I should never have said that to you. I shouldn't have pointed a fucking gun at you."

"It's okay," Justin reassured him, placing a gentle kiss to the other man's lips, "you wouldn't have pulled the trigger." Then he fell back into the mattress and looking up at the swirling patterns of the ceiling.

"I know," Brian almost laughed. He sounded pathetic. He was showing all his cards to the kid, exposing himself more and more but Justin was yet to take advantage and Brian found himself growing to trust the younger man more and more, even though he knew it was stupid. He knew he should never trust anybody but he did. He trusted Michael and Ted and Emmett and now Justin but with Justin it was different. He didn't just trust him with his present, he trusted him with his past and his future. He trusted him with everything and that fucking scared him to death.

"I like your picture," Brian said suddenly, reaching over to his bedside table and pulling open the top drawer, the one for condoms, lube and a gun, but on top of all these essentials was the smoothed out bit of paper that Justin had thrown at Brian earlier. It was a perfect replica of the house. It had taken ages, he was sketching almost the entire time he'd gone 'missing'.

"You do?" Justin beamed at the older man.

"It's exquisite," Brian confirmed.

"Thanks," he grinned, then, he flipped onto his side and traced his fingers over the juts of Brian's ribs. "Anything else in there that's … exquisite?" Justin asked suggestively.

Brian just smiled back and went to get the other items from the drawer.


	10. Chapter 8

Twelve days until Christmas had quickly become Christmas Eve and that meant annoying songs on the radio, old black and white films on the television and lots and lots of news stories about people spreading Christmas cheer.

"This is the only Christmas cheer I want to be spreading," Brian said, lifting his glass of Jim Beam.

"You're so fucking miserable," moaned Justin, punching Brian lightly on the arm. "You're just like the Grinch … or scrooge."

"Just because I don't want to dress up like an idiot?" Brian asked, plucking Justin's ridiculous flashing Santa hat from his head and letting it fall to the floor.

"It's Christmas, it's an excuse to dress up like an idiot."

"I thought that was Halloween."

"No, on Halloween it's _compulsory_ to dress up like an idiot. There's a difference."

"Mm," Brian hummed sceptically as he downed the rest of his whiskey and pushed his empty glass into the younger man's chest. "Another," he ordered.

Justin rolled his eyes but he still got to his feet and went to the kitchen to fill up Brian's glass.

"I have no idea why he does that," Emmett sighed from the floor. He was rearranging the tree decorations that he and Justin had put up earlier that day. Brian had point blank refused to have anything Christmassy in the house until midday Christmas Eve and he'd already stated quite clearly that he wanted it all down by the 26th. He really was a Scrooge. Emmett, on the other hand, loved Christmas and was dressed up like a Christmas fairy in his glittery red top, green pants and feather boa made of tinsel. He was also wearing a stupid flashing Santa hat but it didn't annoy Brian as much as Justin's had.

"He does it because he thinks he's in love with Brian," Michael scorned. "He's pathetic really."

"He's not pathetic," Brian said looking pointedly at his best friend. "He just does things that I ask. Besides," he smirked, "I make it worth his while."

"We know," Ted said, "we've heard."

"Why Theodore, I didn't know we had an audience. You should come in and watch," he smirked, "you might learn a few things."

"Thanks for the offer Bri, but I'll pass," Ted said blushing a little.

Brian just laughed through his nose as Justin returned with his drink.

"Thanks."

Justin smiled widely and flopped back on the sofa next to Brian, which meant he was squeezed between him and Michael but he didn't care. He just allowed his head to rest on Brian's shoulder as the news continued with a piece about the Big Q on Buckley.

"Santa's elves come to the rescue," the male anchor reported as they showed two triumphant looking little people, who'd been employed as elves at Santa's grotto.

"I fucked one of Santa's elves once," Brian said, causing everyone in the room to gape at him.

"You did?" Michael asked in disbelief. "When?"

"Couple of years ago. You and Deb were shopping for a turkey and I disappeared for a while, you asked where I went I told you I'd had a little action."

"I don't believe you," Michael said, shaking his head.

"Fine, don't believe me. But it's true."

"What was he like?" Justin asked, his bright eyes flashing with excitement.

The older man just smirked, "well what he lacked in feet he made up for in inches."

"Okay, I really don't wanna know," Michael said.

"Me neither," Ted agreed.

"I do," Justin grinned and Brian just looked down at the kid and laughed. He'd taught him well.

"I'll tell you later," he whispered in the twink's ear and Justin nodded enthusiastically.

They turned their attention back to the TV just in time to see CCTV footage of the incident as the reporter said, "Brad Thomas and Marina Garcia managed to halt the thief using only a jump rope and two fishing nets."

"Funny," Brian smirked, "that's exactly what I used to fuck him."

"A jump rope and fishing nets?" Justin asked, turning a little so his face was just an inch from Brian's.

"You have no idea how fun that can be," the older man confirmed pressing his forehead against the kids.

"Uh-huh." And then they were kissing, no, they were making out, groping and moaning like horny high-school kids. They only broke apart for Brian to say, "Hey Ted, Mikey, next time one of you goes into town get some jump ropes, will you?"

"And some fishing nets," Justin giggled.

And then they resumed the kissing with extra vigour.

Emmett and Ted caught each other's eyes and immediately they knew they were both thinking the same thing; this is _not_ normal Kinney behaviour. Although, having said that, Kinney hadn't been acting 'normally', whatever that was, since the kid had first arrived on the scene. Personally, Emmett thought it was brilliant, like a Jackie Collins novel except it was real and unfolding right in front of his eyes. It would have been perfect except for one thing …

"Jesus Christ," Michael groaned, "can't you two get a room?"

"We're in one," Brian pointed out, his forehead still pressed against Justin's even as his spoke to Michael, "but if you don't like it Mikey, feel free to relocate yourself to another part of the house." And his lips met Justin's again; no excuses, no apologies, no regrets.

"Well, I might just hold you to that," Michael snarled, getting to his feet and storming out of the room.

"What the fuck is his problem?" Brian asked, looking to the other men in the room for an answer. None of them gave him one but what's the point in speaking aloud when an answer is so painfully obvious to all of them. They were quiet for an uncomfortable moment until Justin said quietly, "maybe you should go and find out."

Brian looked to the door as though considering it before shaking his head decidedly.

"No thanks. You should never go after anyone. Besides, I'd rather stay here," he smiled, giving Justin another chaste kiss before turning his attention back to the TV. The news were now showing a story about a child in a coma who'd woken up after six months just in time for Christmas. It was so fucking heart-warming that Brian wanted to puke.

"Christ," Brian groaned. "Crying breeders made my dick soft."

"You really aren't going to go after him?" Justin asked in amazement. And Brian was pretty shocked too he thought he'd ended this conversation a few minutes ago.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because he's your best friend."

"Well, he's acting like a jealous little housewife."

"Brian!" Justin fixed him with a stern expression.

"What?"

"Go," he said firmly. The two men eyeballed each other, each waiting for the other to back down first. Justin because he knew he was right and Brian because no one ever stood up to Brian Kinney … ever. But, eventually, after staring into angry blue eyes, Brian just sighed heavily and got up to follow Michael.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Emmett chuckled saying, "well, well, well. I never thought I'd see the day Brian Kinney did what someone else told him to do."

Justin gave a slightly smug smile.

"There are ways," he smirked.

"Oh honey, I'm sure," Emmett beamed. He liked Justin, the kid wasn't as much of a pushover as he seemed and he had a feeling that when Brian didn't feel he was being watched, Justin was probably on a completely equal playing field. It was only when Brian had an audience that he played up to this uncaring, insensitive asshole role he'd carved for himself. He smiled to himself as he turned back to the television. Only to discover the News was _still_ on.

"I've had enough of this," he sighed, stretching along the carpet to where the remote was resting just by Ted's feet, "let's see what Christmas specials are on."

"Wait," Ted said, picking up the remote and holding it possessively to his chest.

"What?"

"I know you fail to see the importance of keeping an eye on current affairs but the media interest in Justin's kidnapping happens to be a vital factor as to when we can leave this house."

"But they haven't mentioned it for a week," Justin pointed out.

"Exactly, they've lost a lot of leads _and_ a lot of media interest since Brian's flat failed to turn up any substantial evidence," Ted agreed. "But we still need to keep an eye on it just in case anything changes."

"But Teddy," Emmett began.

"Shhh," the older man interrupted.

"But…"

"Shh! They could say anything at anytime."

"Teddy, they're covering a story about cookies that look like Santa," Emmett scorned.

"Still … be quiet."

::

Brian found Michael straight away. You're not someone's best friend for most of your life without knowing the kind of place they go when they're sulking. He knew he'd be in the room at the far end of the downstairs corridor that was set up like a little library or office space. Brian had filled it with comics and Captain Astro merchandise many years earlier when he'd first bought this place.

Michael was there, of course, stood in the middle of the room with a pile of comics in front of him. He had a Captain Astro comic in his hands. Volume 4 issue 23; the one where Galaxy Lad discovers Captain Astro has been using a different sidekick. Christ, Brian thought, does Michael have a comic equivalent for every event in his life? He thought back over the time he'd spent with Michael and realized quickly that yes, there was a comic equivalent for every moment in his life and that's why he always went to that shitty, rundown comic shop, Buzzy's, whenever things were bad. It was because he could always find someone who was going through the same thing. It was so he wouldn't feel alone.

"Sorry it's not Buzzy's," Brian said softly, causing the smaller man to jump a little but Michael quickly regained his composure enough to tell Brian to 'fuck off'.

"No," Brian said, his voice still soft as he walked further into the room and shut the door behind him. He picked the comic off the top of the pile Michael had put together.

"Scorpionhead issue 102," Brian read aloud, thinking carefully. "The one where Scorpicanhead finds that he's trapped inside his head by his inner-demons after being abandoned by the one person who could save him."

"That's very good," Michael scowled, "now put it down."

Brian dropped the comic immediately and went to look at something else. A Captain Astro action figure with Galaxy Lad at his side. The plastic figures moved so Brian quickly made it look like Captain Astro was fucking Galaxy Lad and then chuckled to himself because that was exactly what he used to do when he played with Michael's toys when they were kids. Michael saw what Brian had done and couldn't help smile a little but that didn't stop him marching over and returning them both back in their proper positions.

"Look, what the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, when he was satisfied with stance of the figures.

"I wanted to make sure that Captain Astro and Galaxy Lad were still getting their needs met," he smirked. "You know that after 30 years a couple's sex life can go stale." And then, more seriously, he added, "and I wanted to see if you were alright."

"Well, you've seen me and I'm fine. Now why don't you get back to the boy wonder in there?"

Brian looked up from where he was flicking through the X Force issue 56 where Rictor and Shatterstar are described as being more than friends. It had been his favourite when Michael had first got him into comics, when they were kids. He'd like the idea of two hot guys with superpowers fucking and he liked the idea that the breeder kids of Middle America wouldn't even get it. It was like a secret only gay kids got, like being in on the joke whilst the majorities are completely ignorant to it.

"I always liked this one," he said, lifting the comic he was holding for his friend to see. "It was my favourite."

"I know," Michael answered curtly.

"It was full of fags, and breeders didn't even know it."

Michael smiled a little, "well, you always did like to get one over on breeders."

Brian nodded. "You always said that comics were best when they spoke to you. So as a pubescent fag, it made me realize…" he paused, his tongue rolling down the inside of his cheek before continuing softly. "It made me realize I wasn't alone. That there were others like me in exactly the same situation I was."

Michael eyed his friend warily. It was on very rare occasions that Brian would bring up his enforced knowledge of comics, usually when he was trying to make a point about something. "Where is this going?"

"Here," Brian said steadily, lifting up the Captain Astro Michael had been reading when he'd arrived in the room. "The one where Captain Astro finds a new sidekick?"

Michael blushed a little. "I just thought…"

"You thought wrong, Mikey," Brian said firmly, putting his hand on Michael's shoulder. "Just like Galaxy Lad."

"But I…"

"Look at this room," Brian cut him off. "I had this built just for you."

"You did?"

"Of course. I knew that when I fucked up enough to actually need to use this place, you'd be right along side me … because you're always there for me Mikey. Always."

The shorter man nodded, placing his hand over Brian's and squeezing.

"But I also knew that when we were hiding out, you'd need a place to run to. I knew that you'd be pissed at me at some point," Brian said with a bit of a smile.

"Well, you are pretty easy to be angry at," Michael admitted, "but you're also impossible to stay angry at."

Brian smiled and then pulled Michael close and kissed him, when they pulled apart, Michael was beaming up at him but Brian just stroked his hair and whispered, "never believe you're not important. You're the most important."

Michael's smile spread even wider if that were possible and Brian just let him go, pulling a joint out of his pocket.

"How about we smoke one for old times' sake?" He smirked, placing it in his mouth and lighting it carefully. He took a long drag and held it in his lungs, letting the feeling of it take over his senses before passing it to Michael.

The smaller man just grinned and took it before they both flopped lazily onto the old-fashioned looking leather sofa near the window.

"Do you know what this reminds me of?" Michael said, handing the joint back.

"Enlighten me."

"That time in Mexico."

"Christ." Brian took an even longer hit. If they were going to reminisce about Mexico he'd need it.

"You thought the police were gonna be all over our backs because we stole that Ford GT from the dealers so we packed our bags and fled to Mexico so fast we didn't even stop to realize that no one gave a shit."

Brian laughed a little through his nose. "We were eighteen," he shrugged. "We were naïve and you were stupid. You made us dump that car in Mexico." He paused as he took another drag before passing the toke back to his friend. "I'm still pissed at you for that. I fucking loved that car."

"I know," Michael giggled. He always got giggly from pot, whereas Brian always became morose and more cynical of the world. They'd always been polar opposites, why should drugs be any different? "In fact," he chuckled, "you loved that car _so_ much, you made us stay in that shithole motel, with rats in the pool and cockroaches in the cereal and the mattress with springs sticking through. You can't honestly tell me the car was worth all that?"

Brian pulled an expression as if to suggest it really _had_ been worth it to get a chance to drive one of his favourite cars.

"Okay. What about Santiago? Was it worth him?"

Brian found himself chuckling again. Okay, maybe pot made him a bit giggly too. "Christ. Santiago. He was the biggest _cock_-roach of them all."

"Do you remember how he hid under the bed waiting for you?"

"Mm, we literally had a troll under the bed."

Michael laughed much harder than any sober person would have and took another hit, snorting and giggling as he said, "you still fucked him."

Brian just shrugged. "There was no one else around."

"There was me," Michael said quietly. And Brian felt suddenly uncomfortable. He hated it whenever Michael brought up this crush he'd been harbouring for him ever since they met.

"Yeah," he said, plucking the very end of the toke from Michael's fingers. "There was always you," he said, getting what he could from the joint before throwing suffocating it in an ashtray.

When Brian looked back to his friend, he found him looking wounded and miserable and, Brian thought, heartbroken. So Brian was almost glad when he heard Emmett scream;

"OH MY GOD!"

Brian and Michael just looked at each other. Pulling their guns from their preferred concealed places, they crept slowly towards the sitting room, kicked open the door and pointed the weapons around expecting some kind of intruder.

::

Instead, what they found was Justin sitting on the sofa crying, with Emmett doing his best to comfort him despite the fact he seemed practically inconsolable.

"What the fuck is going on?" Brian asked, immediately going to Justin and squeezing his shoulder in a way he hoped was at least somewhat comforting. Justin looked up at him. His eyes were red and shining with tears and his face was blotchy and red but somehow he still managed to look hot.

"They think I'm dead," he cried, his head flopping forward so he was sobbing into Brian's stomach until the older man opted to sit down so as better to support Justin's body, which was weak and heaving with sobs.

"What?" Brian asked, understandably confused. "Who do?"

"Everybody," Justin wept.

Brian just frowned and looked to the only man who knew what was going on that wasn't a total drama queen. "Theodore," he said, "what the fuck is going on?"

"Er, hang on," Ted said, finding the DVD player remote and winding back through the last news story. "I always keep a recording," he explained as he got to the end of the story about the Santa cookies, "just in case we should ever need to watch it again." He pressed play and the news story that had caused all the distress began to play.

"This just in," the female anchor said solemnly, as she touched her ear piece to better hear what the story was. "A body found in a dumpster behind a diner on Liberty Avenue is confirmed to be that of the missing eighteen year old, Justin Taylor."

"Shit," Brian muttered under his breath and the kid in his arms sobbed harder.

"The body was discovered earlier today by a waitress as she took out the garbage and police say the body was beaten up and burned making it impossible to identify by sight. As feared, the DNA tests and checks with dental records have confirmed early suspicions that this is in fact that Justin Taylor. Our thoughts are of course with Justin's family, friends and especially his mother Jennifer and father Craig at this time."

Justin sobbed even harder as the camera changed to a load of Liberty Diner customers putting flowers and cuddly toys next to the dumpster, as the anchors voiceover continued;

"Workers at the diner say it used to be a familiar haunt of Kinney and the other OUTlaws and Liberty Avenue is now on red alert for the gang. If anyone knows anything, police are urging them to get in touch. This is now the hunt for a murderer."

"Shit!" Michael shouted loudly. "This just got serious. They're going to double their efforts to find us now."

"But," Brian said slowly, "they're not going to be looking for Justin at all. Maybe this is a good thing." He felt Justin tense in his arms and glare at him.

"What?" Emmett asked in disbelief.

"My parents think I'm dead," Justin added, sniffing his tears back. "How is that a _good_ thing?"

"So? They wanted you dead anyway. Now, everyone's happy." And suddenly Brian found his head spinning sideways, his face stinging and throbbing from where the kid had just slapped him … hard.

"Fuck you, Brian," Justin was screaming, tears running down his cheeks his face red and blotchy. "I have friends and a sister who all care about me, even my mother seems to care. I don't want them to think I'm dead."

"You were quite happy to let them think you'd been kidnapped never to be seen again."

"That's different!"

"No," Brian was still infuriatingly calm, "it's exactly the same."

"But at least before they had hope!"

"So now they can mourn in peace. You're never going to see them again anyway. It's probably better this way!"

"FUCK YOU!" Justin screamed, making a break for the telephone and dialling his home number frantically.

Luckily, Brian and Michael managed to drag the kid away before he'd finished dialling. He was struggling furiously against his human restraints, kicking, punching, biting, anything so he could let his mom know he was okay. He lashed out but Brian and Michael held him firm until eventually he broke down and started to sob again and that was when he turned back to Brian and shoved him hard in the chest.

"You have to let them know I'm okay." He could barely see anymore with the tears that were obscuring his view and he was shaking so much he could barely stand up.

"And how would you suggest I do that, Sunshine?" Brian asked mockingly. "Send them your little finger in a box?"

"Why are you being such an asshole?"

"Because you're being a twot," Brian retorted. "Your little stunt then could have completely blown our cover and then the police would come and you'd go back to your father and we'd go to prison. Is that what you want?"

Justin just dipped his head. He wasn't sure what he wanted. At this moment, all he could think about was letting his mom know that he was okay, that he wasn't hurt or … dead. He was just … on the run with a gang of seemingly dangerous criminals. Fuck! Was that really any better?

"S-so," he sniffed, "we should just let everyone think I'm dead?"

"That's exactly what we do," Brian said calmly.

Justin broke down into a fresh monsoon of tears and fled the room sobbing loudly.

"Emmett," Brian ordered immediately. "Go after him, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

Emmett glared at the leader of their gang in disgust.

"He's eighteen Brian," he said slowly. "He might have run away but he still loves his family. So don't expect him to be as heartless as you. He's lost everything, can't you show him some compassion?"

Brian met Emmett's eyes and stared back not showing a single emotion let alone compassion before repeating, very slowly and very deliberately, "Make sure he's not doing anything stupid."

Emmett just shook his head in anger, muttering, 'asshole' as he went to find the kid.

As soon as the door was shut, Brian found himself melting into the sofa. He felt like shit, his face was stinging from the slap and his legs were bruised from where Justin had got in some really good kicks whilst struggling for the phone but that wasn't bothering him. What bothered him was that maybe Emmett had a point. Brian had got freaked out seeing his name on an edible gravestone so he couldn't even imagine what it would be like to watch a news reporter announce your death on state-wide television perhaps he was just a little harsh on the kid.

"I think you did the right thing," Michael said, as though he could hear Brian's internal trauma. He sat down next to his friend and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "We can't jeopardize our position for the sake of a phone call to his mother that would probably freak her out more than it would reassure her."

Ted made a strange strangled noise as he extracted the DVD from the player, placing it in an A4 folder of all the other news DVD's he'd collected since they'd first arrived at the house. He liked to have everything organized.

"What was that, Theodore?" Brian asked, looking up immediately.

The older man blushed a little, shaking his head to try and avoid the question.

"No," Brian insisted, "I want to hear what you have to say." Ted looked at the taller man's determined expression and he knew there was no way in hell he was going to be able to avoid this so he took a deep breath, almost fearing it would be his last.

"I'm not saying you weren't right with what you said," Ted ventured carefully. "In fact, I'd say you pretty much had it spot on."

"But…?" Brian encouraged.

"But, maybe, you could have said it less aggressively," Ted suggested. He seemed to almost shrink with anxiety of Brian's response but Brian just sighed heavily and looked back at the floor.

He hated that he'd been so cold to Justin. He hated that he'd made the kid upset. He hated that he'd got him into all this shit in the first place but most of all, he hated how much he cared. His 'no regrets' motto seemed a long way away now.

He tried to take his mind of it by finding patterns in the wooden floorboard that he was currently staring at and then a cigarette appeared in his view and he took it, looking up at Michael who was smiling at him and holding a lighter up. Brian put the cig in his mouth and leant forward so the end of the stick reached the flames and the orange glow appeared. He sucked a long breath of smoke into his lungs and immediately began to feel less stressed.

"Here's the thing I can't understand," Michael said, lighting his own cigarette. "I mean if they used dental records they must know it's not Justin so why are they saying this body is his?"

"I think the actual question is why aren't they saying who it really is?" Brian said. "Stockwell's police department are covering something up, they have to be."

"It's obvious they've given up on finding Justin," Ted said. "They're probably using his name now to cover up some accidental shooting of a bystander."

"Isn't that illegal?" Michael asked.

Brian snorted a little through his nose. "Not if you're the ones enforcing the law. Ted, can you look into it?"

"Already on it, Bri."

"Excellent," Brian said, pushing himself to his feet and taking a final drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out and dropping the stump into an ashtray. "Now if you gentlemen would excuse me, I have something I have to do." And with that he left the room.

::

"He hates me," Justin was sobbing into Emmett's shoulder. Emmett had managed to convince Justin to go to Emmett's room to talk this over. It was private up there, there was a lock on the door and it was warm and cosy. Emmett had even hoped it would be comforting but all it seemed to have done was make Justin cry harder.

"He doesn't hate you, Baby," Emmett reassured him for the hundredth time. "That's half his problem."

"But all I do is cause him problems. Cause all of you problems. Everyone's going to think you're murderers." He gasped in a breath as a particularly hard sob hit him straight in the chest. "M-maybe," he wept, "maybe you should have all just let Michael shoot me that day in the alley."

"Justin Taylor," Emmett scolding grabbing hold of Justin's shoulders firmly and giving him a bit of a shake. "Don't you dare say _anything_ like that ever again. Ya hear me?"

Justin nodded dumbly but he didn't look up. He still had tears flowing down his face. He looked a mess, an emotional, confused mess and it was clear he didn't really believe that Emmett wanted him around.

"Sweetie," Emmett said softly, tucking the longer bits of Justin's hair behind his ear over and over though it was clear they weren't quite long enough to stay, "this whole situation in a mess. There's been unfortunate turn after unfortunate turn that has led us to where we are now and I have a lot of regrets along the way. But one thing I don't regret is that you came along for the ride and," he brought his hand to Justin's chin, forcing the kid to look at him, "I'm sure Brian agrees."

"Sometimes I think he does," Justin whispered softly. "But sometimes I think he wishes I'd leave and never come back."

"You know that's not true," Emmett insisted. "You saw how scared he was the other week when he thought you'd gone missing."

Justin just shook his head miserably. Emmett looked at the sorrow in Justin's expression and said, "I think it's time I told you about Georgie."

Justin nodded and smiled a little. "I think I'd like that," he agreed.

"Well, Georgie, or as he was known to his bitch of an ex-wife and his so-called friends in the business, George Shickle."

"Of Shickle's Pickels?" Justin asked, drying his cheeks. "The pickle the people prefer?" He quoted.

"The very same," Emmett nodded.

"I didn't know he was a fag."

"No one does," Emmett said, tapping his nose with the smile of a man who was about to divulge a very well kept secret.

"How did you two meet?"

"Well," Emmett said, "I was the main star on this big porn site called 'Jerk at Work . Net.'"

"You were a porn star?" Justin asked in disbelief.

"Yes, what's so surprising about that?" Emmett asked indignantly.

Justin could do nothing but shrug in response. "You just don't look much like a porn star, that's all."

"I won a Crystal Dick I'll have you know," Emmett said proudly and then looking at the bemused look on his friends face he blushed a little and said, "but that's by the by. The point is I was the star." He said it grandly. "Then one day my boss hands me this little box which he told me was from someone claiming to be my secret admirer. So, being a noisy little queen, I open up the box and there's this wonderful solid gold bracelet inside."

Justin gasped, he could just imagine how it would have looked.

"So, naturally, I went to find this secret admirer to, er, thank him properly and when I got there it's like a palace," Emmett smiled. "I felt like a princess in a fairytale and that's when I discovered my Georgie."

"What was he like, Em?"

"He was the kindest, most loving person I have ever known," Emmett said honestly, tears welling up in his eyes as he remembered his only love. "He asked me to move in with him," Emmett explained "and I gave up the porn and we just lived together, going out to clubs, lounging in bed, swimming in the pool. We were happy for six glorious months." Emmett smiled as he remembered fondly the time he'd spent with George.

"What happened?" Justin encouraged.

"We were off to travel the world," Emmett said grandly. "And as we were flying George told me he wasn't a member of the mile high club. So, me being the silly slut that I am decided we should change that and that was when," Emmett gasped a little as he tried to fight off the sobs. "He suffered a heart attack," he whispered, he was quiet for a moment and Justin could see that the man ahead of him had never really got over losing his 'Georgie'. "I went to the funeral, of course," he carried on determinedly. "I wanted to make a speech but he had this big televised state funeral and they would let me talk but that wasn't the worst of it. The worst thing was when the will was read out. It turned out Georgie had left me a substantial amount of money."

"How substantial?" Justin questioned.

"Ten _million_ dollars," Emmett said slowly.

"Ten _million_?" Justin repeated in disbelief.

"Yep," Emmett confirmed. "Only, of course, the Shickle estate managed to convince a judge that I had manipulated George's will and used him for money. They even insinuated that I took him on the World Trip knowing it would kill him."

"Oh Em," Justin said, reaching out a hand and rubbing the other man's shoulder comfortingly. "I'm so sorry. What did you do?"

"I vowed that I would get back what was rightfully mine," Emmett stated forcefully. "It was then that I met Michael, Brian and Ted. Brian promised to help me get the money back that I deserved back. It took us nearly a month but we did it and the whole time, Brian kept saying _'this is a one-time thing, Honeycutt_.'" Emmett quoted in his best impression of Brian, "'as _soon as you've got your money you're gone_.' But when the job came to an end, Brian didn't kick me out and I didn't leave. He kept threatening me, telling me to go but he never made it happen. And do you know why?"

Justin shook his head. He really didn't know. He'd always thought Brian was a man of his word but when Emmett explained, it actually made perfect sense.

"You see, Sweetie, once you're a friend of Brian Kinney, you're always a friend of Brian Kinney's."

Justin beamed up at the other man. He really, truly hoped that that was true. There were times when Justin truly believed that Brian cared about him as much as he cared about the older man but sometimes Brian would look at him and Justin felt like Brian couldn't stand him but Emmett's words had made him feel better. He felt like he understood both Emmett and Brian better now. He leant over and hugged Emmett tight.

"Thanks, Em," he whispered.

Just then, there was a gentle knocking at the door and Brian's voice called softly, "er, can I come in?"

"It's open," Emmett called back and the doorknob twisted and the wooden door was pushed open just far enough for Brian to pop his head through the gap. He looked sheepish, almost embarrassed, his head dipped his eyes focusing on anything except the men in the room.

"Um, Justin," he mumbled. "Can I, er … can I talk to you a minute please?"

The kid looked at the man in the doorway and then to Emmett pleadingly. Luckily, the other man immediately got the message. He got to his feet and said cheerily,

"I was just going anyway. Why don't you come in Brian?"

Brian nodded and shuffled around the door. He didn't move from that spot until Emmett had brushed past him warning him under his breath not to fuck in his room. Brian almost smiled at that but then his eyes had fallen on the still dishevelled form of Justin and he felt sick again. He couldn't speak for what seemed like an eternity. He felt like he was searching all over his brain but no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't find anything to say. So he didn't say anything. He just stood near the door in silence.

"Well…?" Justin encouraged eventually. "You said you wanted to talk to me, what is it?"

"I, er," Brian looked down at his bare feet because that would mean he didn't have to look into the kid's eyes. "I want to say I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Shit, Brian thought, Justin was not going to make this easy for him this time but he had to try anyway. He took a deep breath and said quietly, "for being an asshole." He paused for a second, finally getting up the courage to look at the kid. "I mean," he clarified, "I stand by what I said. We can't risk the police finding us for the sake of a phone call but I'm sorry that I didn't take into account your," he almost choked on the next word, "feelings."

Justin's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was as surprised to hear it as Brian was that he'd said it.

"And," Brian said, slowly swallowing back the bile and the protests and the sarcastic quips that were all battling to leave his mouth at the same time, anything to stop this lesbionic, weak-person's apology. "I'm sorry that I made assumptions about how you feel about your family."

Justin nodded. Now that he'd spoken to Emmett and he'd calmed down a little and was looking back on the exchange with a rational head he too, could see Brian's point, not that Brian should have put it across quite the way he did.

"Well, I'm sorry too," Justin said firmly. "I should never have tried to call home. I was just angry and upset and I let my emotions get the better of me."

"Well, you probably can't help it," Brian smirked, "you _are_ a bit of a drama queen after all."

"Asshole," Justin replied fondly.

"Twot," Brian grinned. They smiled at each other for a moment until Brian said, "now go and get dinner started. I'm starving."

Justin laughed a little, pushing himself off Emmett's bed and going downstairs to get started on the cooking. After all, wasn't that he only reason they still kept him around?


	11. Chapter 9

"Hey … hey!" Brian felt a gentle shoving on his shoulder. "Brian. Wake up!"

"Fuck off," the older man muttered in response. "I'm asleep."

"Come on, get up," Justin insisted. Brian could feel the kid almost thrumming with excitement on the bed next to him.

"I swear to God," Brian scowled, "if you're waking me up early just because it's Christmas day, I will throw you out of the fucking window."

Justin stopped for a second, as that had been exactly the reason he had for bringing Brian from his sleep so he quickly changed to a tact he felt sure Brian would approve of.

"What if," the kid said, dropping his voice and pressing his lips close to the older man's ear so that the words seemed to explode, hot and steamy, in his ear, "I woke you up because I'm horny as hell and I have this, er … problem that I need help with."

Brian's eyes slid open and he turned to look at the kid sternly. "Well then, I guess I'll allow this intrusion into my sleep."

::

They'd all arrived downstairs knowing that there was no chance of presents … not real ones anyway. Brian had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want to give or receive _any_ gifts. The others, however, hadn't said a word about the day, which had left them all determined to give each other something to commemorate the day. Michael had bought Ted a new calculator, he'd bought Emmett a cashmere sweater and, despite his warnings, he'd given Brian a gift … it turned out to be two tubes of lube and two boxes of condoms. Apparently, it had been some kind of ongoing tradition for a while now. Justin received nothing from Michael and it wasn't unnoticed by the others in the house.

Justin had managed to smooth out his picture of the house completely. He'd added a bit of color and managed to get Ted to buy him a frame without asking _too_ many questions, so he presented it to the others as a gift to all of them.

"Oh honey," Emmett exclaimed, "that's wonderful."

"It's a perfect likeness, Justin" Ted agreed. "You should be very proud."

Michael just stared at the picture for a while before asking maliciously, "what is it?" Which earned him a glare from Brian and a sharp slap around the head from Emmett.

Ted gave everyone gadgets. They were useful and practical and Brian in particular found them intriguing. Justin had quickly figured out that, more than anyone else in this gang, Brian respected Ted. This was a man who could do things Brian couldn't and Brian respected that as much, if not more than, he respected the other's loyalty. He gave Emmett, Brian and Michael each the GPS system that tracked police vehicles and he gave them silencers to fit on the end of their individual guns. Then he gave all of them a fun present; a thong in the shape of an elephant.

"Er, thanks Theodore," Brian said, sarcasm soaking his words as he let the elephant's face fall back into the box and everyone else pretty much echoed his opinion.

Then Ted handed Justin his gift, a box containing two jump ropes and two fishing nets.

Justin chuckled a little as he showed it to Brian. "Thanks Ted," he grinned, giving the man a bit of an awkward hug.

Then, it was Emmett's turn to hand out the gifts. He had completely respected Brian's wish and wrapped up a box of 'nothing' for him to enjoy. He'd given Justin a box of homemade Christmas shortbread saying, "my aunt Lula's secret recipe. I know how much you love them."

For Michael, there was a stress ball and an improve-your-mood-a-meter, which although presented as a tongue in cheek present also sent a very clear message to the smaller man and for Ted, he bought a months' subscription to his favourite porn site.

"You don't fool us with all this talk of 'working'," he used his figures to quote the word. "We know what you're really doing when you're locked away in that bedroom of yours."

"You watch porn?" Justin asked and Brian thought it was sort of sweet how shocked he looked by that revelation.

"Not all of us are lucky enough to have a fuck machine in our beds," Ted said steadily.

"I think he means you," Justin told Brian with a smile.

"I know he means me," Brian told Justin with a smirk.

And then Justin and Emmett had set about preparing the turkey. Brian had tried to convince them not to do it. He'd tried to explain it was a pointless ritual but Emmett wouldn't hear of it and once he'd put his two cents in, everyone else did too. So now they were spreading Christmas cheer around the house. It was when Emmett turned on the stereo and the tacky Christmas songs started to bleed from the speakers that Brian decided he needed a drink.

"Isn't it a little early for that?" Michael asked as his best friend re-entered the living room with a bottle of Jim Beam in one hand and a glass in the other.

"I'm just upholding a fine Kinney Christmas tradition," he shrugged, bypassing the glass and lifting the bottle straight to his lips. He took a long swig and Michael could see that he was aiming for blind drunk rather than a little merry. He gave a satisfied 'ahh' when he pulled the bottle from his mouth. "Now," he said pointedly, "it almost feels like Christmas. If only I had a son to kick around the floor, then the day really would be complete."

"You could kick Justin," Michael suggested, only half-joking.

Brian shot him a look that said 'shut-the-fuck-up' and flicked over the TV.

"Hey," Ted cried, "I was watching that."

"Tell me it wasn't something that wasn't going to bore me to tears and I'll put it back on," Brian offered.

"It was a very interesting documentary about …"

"Ah," Brian interrupted, flicking through the channels decidedly. Then, seeing the confused look on Ted's face he explained, "you said documentary."

"So?"

"So, never in the history of television has a documentary ever been interesting. Christ," he groaned as he flicked through channel after channel playing Christmas show after

Christmas show. "Is there any way to avoid this stupid fucking holiday?"

"You could become a Jew," Ted suggested.

"Yeah, but then there'd probably be rules against fucking men. And I'd rather endure Christmas than give up fucking." He took another swig of his whiskey and tried to pass it to Michael. "Come on Mikey," he encouraged. "Why don't you get into the Christmas _spirit_?" He joked.

"That's very clever," scorned Michael. "But getting wasted on whiskey by midday doesn't say Christmas to me."

"What about getting wasted on Eggnog?" Brian asked. "You wait here, I'll get you some." He pushed himself to his feet, his hunt for a decent non-Christmassy television program completely abandoned in favour of his hunt for a decent Christmassy alcoholic drink. He supposed that this could be deemed as entering into the Christmas celebrations.

He pushed open the dividing door between the sitting room and the kitchen and was immediately assaulted by an attack of glorious smells and aromas. The roasting turkey was mouth-watering, the vegetables stewing looked delectable and Justin and Emmett stood in the middle of the kitchen covered in flour and laughing hysterically.

"I don't think working together on this is going to work," Emmett said, brushing the flower from his apron and doing his best to get it out of the shorter man's hair.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Brian demanded.

"It's my fault," Justin said. "I had a bit of a mishap with opening the flour." He sounded like he was trying to be serious but he had the giggles and couldn't help chuckling when Emmett said that his shirt was ruined.

"It's a good job I wore old clothes this morning," Emmett decided cheerily. "I just had a feeling things were going to get messy."

"And they certainly did," Brian said, going over to Justin and brushing some of the flour of his cheek with his hand. "What was this mess going to be?"

"Christmas Cake," Justin grinned.

"And what the fuck is Christmas Cake?" Brian asked.

"It's like fruit cake but … Christmassy," Emmett explained with a wave of his flour-covered arms.

"Emmett's an expert cake maker," Justin added.

"Is he?" Brian looked sceptically around at the mess in his kitchen. "So far all he's proved is that he's an expert mess maker."

"Well, give me an hour, and get this klutz out from under my feet," Emmett said fondly of Justin, "and I can whip up the greatest Christmas cake you've ever tasted."

"Well, that wouldn't be hard," Brian replied, "I've never tasted Christmas cake."

"All the more reason to get it made," Emmett said determinedly.

"That's great Emmylou, but how do you intend to make this cake when all the flour is over the floor?"

"Oh darn that's right," he sighed. "Ooo, I know … Teddy?" He ran off to the other room to ask the techno-geek to pop to the store for him.

Brian waited for him to leave before turning his attention on Justin. "You really made a mess, didn't you?"

Justin smiled a little embarrassedly. "I'll clean it up."

"Damn straight you will," he said seriously. "And then, go in the sitting room. Watch the shitty Christmas specials."

"I thought you hated Christmas specials," Justin pointed out a knowing gleam in his eye.

"I do," confirmed the older man. "But _you_ don't. You deserve a Christmas, even if it's a shit one. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Where are you going?"

"The gym," he answered. "I'm gonna need a good work out if I'm going to eat all this food you and Honeycutt have whipped up."

The gym was just another one of the vast number of downstairs office-type spaces that Brian hadn't known what to do with. Eventually, he just chocked it full of gym equipment and hadn't thought anything more of it. But now he was grateful for it. It was not only a great way to keep in shape but he could also kill a few hours every day in there. Or he could just go there to be alone for a while, when the world was just a bit shit … like now.

"Do you think maybe you should take a bottle of water with you?" Justin asked as Brian was about to leave. "Instead of," he pried the Jim Beam from the older man's viper grip and waved it in front of the older man's face. "Now," Justin patted him condescendingly on the chest, "go fight off middle-age."

Brian just scowled but he was finding it increasingly difficult to stay mad at the kid.

::

Ted had long since gone off into the big wide world to find Emmett some much needed flour. That was the problem with living miles from anywhere, popping to a shop took the best part of 45 minutes though Emmett was keeping himself busy concocting icing sugar Christmas trees and angles in the kitchen, not that anyone was allowed to enter the room. Anything you wanted from the kitchen, you had to ask for at the door and wait for Emmett to bring it to you. So as not to spoil the surprise.

Brian had been asking for his whiskey for about ten minutes but Emmett was refusing point-blank to retrieve it for him.

"I'm not having you drunk through my meal," was his reason and as far as Brian was concerned it was bullshit but he wasn't going to beg for it. He'd already tried just bursting in but Emmett had wedged both the partitioning door to the sitting room and the main door to the hallway shut with chairs.

"You could go through the French doors out the back," Michael suggested as his friend fidgeted angrily on the sofa.

"They're locked," Brian sighed. "I already tried that."

"You could just give up and enjoy the Christmas day feeling," Justin suggested. He'd been the one that insisted they watch 'It's a Wonderful Life', there's always one who suggests it, and he was currently trying not to weep as the film began to draw to a close.

"Or," Brian said, "I could just shoot the glass in the doors out and stroll in."

"Isn't that going a bit far?" Justin asked looking just briefly away from the TV before his attention was glued back to the screen. He was laying on his belly on the floor like a child, his chin resting on his hands and Brian was trying very hard not to kick the kid.

"I know," Michael said suddenly. "Why don't we make a Christmas wish? Like we used to at Ma's house."

"Fine," Brian said, "I wish this stupid fucking day was over." Then he paused, enduring the glares the other two were shooting him before deciding, "in fact, I just wish I could _get some goddamn whiskey_." He shouted the last bit loud enough so that Emmett would be able to hear and although Emmett did shout "patience, Kinney" in return, it was clear Brian wasn't going to be reunited with his old friend Jim any time soon.

Eventually, the film drew to a close and Brian turned over to watch something else, anything else, but Ted _still_ wasn't back.

"Maybe we should call him," Michael said anxiously.

"Fine," Brian agreed, "but it's Christmas day. He's probably stood in a _big queue _at the Big Q behind hundreds of other shoppers who forgot to get cranberry sauce for their turkey."

"Still, it's best to be sure," Michael said, opening his cell and dialing Ted's speed dial number. "It's ringing," he confirmed.

"Were you expecting it not to?" Brian scorned. He couldn't help himself. He was in a truly shitty mood.

After five minutes of gabbing on the phone, Michael found Ted was indeed fine and was, like Brian had predicted, was just stuck behind hundreds of people who'd forgotten one vital, can't-live-without-it item of the Christmas dinner.

"Right," Michael said, hanging up. "Well, that's a relief."

"I for one was worried sick," Brian mocked.

Michael scowled at his friend. He shouldn't have been surprised. Brian was like this at Christmas every year and Michael knew it must be hard to have fond memories of a day that you'd spent mostly in your room hiding from alcoholic parents but sometimes he just wished his friend would try.

"I'm gonna call, Ma," Michael announced, "wish her a Merry Christmas." And with that he disappeared up to his room.

"And then there were two," Brian breathed out slowly, producing a cigarette from his jeans' pocket. "Want one?"

"Sure," Justin nodded taking the cig and popping it in his mouth as Brian expertly lit it. He took a long drag and breathed the smoke in perfect rings into the air. "It took me ages to learn that," he grinned. "But I persevered, long hours behind the gym at school when I was ditching class."

"Do your parents know you were such a rule-breaker?"

"Probably not," Justin grinned. "Until this happened, they thought I was their perfect little pride and joy."

"How wrong they were," Brian drawled and if Justin didn't know better he'd have sworn there was a hint of pride in the older man's voice.

"It didn't matter though, I still got 1500 on my SAT's."

"1500?"

Justin just nodded a smile dancing across his face as he couldn't fail to note how impressed the older man sounded.

"You could have got into any college you wanted with a score like that."

"Probably."

"So what the fuck are you doing here?"

Justin shrugged a little before deciding it was "having an adventure. Anyway," he said, looking up at Brian seriously, "you're smart. Ted's really smart. You could have both gone to college, why didn't you?"

"I never sat my SAT's," Brian said. "I'd run away from home, school and convention long before that milestone. And Theodore _did_ go to college." Brian smiled a little and some memory. "But he got in with a bad crowd."

"You?"

"The best of the worst," Brian confirmed. Just then there was a loud buzzing that rang through the house. Justin jumped furiously but Brian just groaned.

"Fucking Theodore," he said, pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "He must have forgotten the code at the entrance gate. Go let him in, Justin."

"Why can't you go?" Justin whined but Brian just shot him a look that said 'watch-your-fucking-mouth' and Justin sighed and got to his feet.

::

It was maybe five minutes before Brian noticed anything was a bit weird about the situation. He was still sitting alone in the sitting room, he hadn't heard the whirring of gates opening and … well, hadn't Michael not long got off the phone with Ted and said he was going to be a while? Something didn't add up. Where the fuck had Justin got to? What was taking him so long to open the gates? Brian didn't want to be seen to be too anxious, so he just got to his feet slowly and strolled up the stairs to his room. He'd be able to see the whole front yard and drive from there. As he reached the top of the stairs he heard Michael telling his mother, he had another call.

"Hello," Brian heard Michael say down his cell. "Hey Ted. Okay, you're just leaving? Fuck! Christmas Day shopping is a nightmare. See you soon."

Brian's stomach felt like it had dropped out from underneath him. 'Just leaving', so who the fuck had buzzed at the gate. Who had he sent Justin out to? Why hadn't he fucking checked? They were always supposed to check if someone buzzed. He'd just been so sure it would have been Ted but of course it wasn't Ted. Ted wouldn't suddenly forget the code.

He was the one who'd made it up for fuck's sake.

"Shit!" Brian cried, turning on his heel and legging it down the stairs. "Shit, shit, shit!"

"What the fuck's going on?" Michael demanded, coming out of his room to see his best friend fly past like a greyhound out of its stall and straight down the steps. "Brian, why are you in such a hurry?"

But he didn't have time to explain. He'd sent Justin out to the gate without even checking who was there. It could have been the police, another gang member, anyone and Justin hadn't come back. He hadn't come back! He'd been out there more than five minutes. What if something happened to him? How would he live with the guilt, knowing he as good as sent the kid to his death? No, shit. FUCK! This could not be happening. He flung open the front door with only one thing on his mind; Justin.


	12. Chapter 10

**This chapter's dedicated to Boriqua522 for giving me the idea at the end of it...**

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The scene ahead of him would have been funny if Brian hadn't been so shit scared just moments before. Standing just inside the gate of the house was Justin, standing on the other side of the gate was Debbie, both poised, guns pointed and each other and ready to shoot … sort of. Brian thought it looked like the most inept, colourful Mexican standoff of all time. But he was so relieved to see Justin there and to see that it was in fact Debbie at the door, not the police or some other member of a gang, that he didn't even really think about the fact that if one flinched, the other could be dead.

He just strolled over, a laugh bubbling up in his gut.

"Well, well, well," he smirked. "What's going on here?"

"She knows my name!" Justin cried. He was bright red and shaking furiously, as he tried to keep the gun trained on the strange woman ahead of him. "She knows all of our names!"

"Really?" Brian said his voice low and teasing. He had a similar expression to that of a cat playing with a couple of doomed mice. "Well, that does sound suspicious," he conceded, gazing at Debbie with a look of pure glee on his face.

"Quit with the games, asshole," Debbie snapped. "Call off your ward, now."

"Okay, _Ma_," he mocked. He walked close behind Justin and gently moulded his body to the younger man's being incredibly careful not to startle him. One wrong move now could result in a body bag for Deb. He placed his hand gently over Justin's and he noticed they were white and cold from where they'd been gripping the gun so tight.

"It's okay," he whispered softly in the kid's ear. His voice was calm and low and Justin could feel it rumbling out from Brian's chest and all around his body. "She's family."

Together, they lowered the gun until it was facing the floor, which was when Brian felt they were safe enough for him to pull the weapon out of the younger man's hand. Of course, he recognized the gun as the one he'd given the kid when they were back at the loft. He'd almost forgotten about it and he certainly hadn't known that Justin still had it concealed away in the inner pocket of his jacket. Just as Brian was putting the safety catch on the gun, he heard Justin gasp a sob, as he tried to force back the tears that were flowing freely down his face.

"Hey," Brian said. "What's wrong?"

"He's probably overwhelmed," Debbie piped up immediately. "If you let me the fuck in, I could give him a hug."

"Maybe he doesn't want a hug from a woman who had a gun pointed at his head just moments ago," Brian suggested, but he used the arm that wasn't around Justin's shoulder to type in the code and open the gate.

"Well, he wanted a fuck from a man who shot his father," Debbie pointed out, as the gate slowly began to slide away. She picked up a big carrier bag with a snowman on it from the floor and walked through the gap.

"How much has Mikey told you?" Brian asked knowingly.

"Enough," Debbie said, touching the kid's face gently. "And, if you ask me, he's as fucked up as the rest of you."

"Well, no one asked you Deb," Brian growled, squeezing Justin's shoulders, though the kid did seem to have calmed down a little. "So butt the fuck out. In fact, you shouldn't even fucking be here. I told Michael to tell you, you weren't allowed to come here. Did anyone follow you? I bet you don't even fucking know."

"Look, none of that's important. This poor child's been traumatized. Let's take him inside," Debbie said.

"The only thing that's traumatized him, Deb, is you."

"Asshole," she muttered as she managed to slide Justin from Brian's grip and take him towards the house. Deb was petting him and kissing him and hugging him as though he were some kind of long lost son. Well, like Brian had always said; 'Debbie puts the mother in smother.' It had been true when they were fifteen and it was still true now.

Brian just shook his head as he tapped in the code and watched gate carefully as it began to close. He waited until he heard the metal clang together. He waited until he heard the whirring of the lock moving back into place and then he trudged slowly back up to the house. He was sure Deb would have a whole, horde of horrendous holiday ornaments in that fucking bag. In fact, he was almost certain they'd be all over the sitting room by the time he arrived … he wasn't wrong.

Debbie was tacking horrible gold and silver 'Merry Christmas' banners to the mantelpiece and was clambering over his sofa's to tack them to the old-fashioned picture rails. She'd even managed to bring along a tacky set of tiny plastic reindeer complete with sleigh, which she was now balancing on the TV table in front of the infrared sensor for the remote. Fucking brilliant, Brian groaned internally.

"It's not Christmas without proper decorations," Deb was saying as she bustled around the room busying herself with things that didn't need doing. Michael was sat in an armchair looking suitably embarrassed.

"Michael," Brian said an eerie calmness to his voice. "Can I speak to you please … in the hall?"

Michael nodded a little and stood up silently. Justin couldn't help think he looked a bit like a kid who'd just been sent to the Principles' office. He was shuffling his feet, his head drooping; the guilty kid's march. Brian was looking stern as he held open the door and the shorter man walked past him.

They shut the door behind them but Justin could still hear exactly what they were yelling through the thin walls.

"I told you," Brian's voice was wavering he was so angry, "to tell your mom she _couldn't_ come here!"

"But it's Christmas," Michael's protests sounded week in response. "It's a time for families to come together."

"Fuck families and fuck Christmas!" Brian shouted back. "I don't care about traditions! I don't care about presents or rituals or stables or reindeers or Santa or any other piece of shit attached to this holiday! All I care about is not getting caught and not going to prison. You know they could be watching your mom."

"They don't know I'm involved," Michael shouted back.

"Christ Mikey, how thick are you? It wouldn't take them long to find out that we've been best friends since we were fifteen. In fact, if I were the police you would be the first person I'd look for and when you weren't around I'd watch the closest person to you," he raised his voice, "your goddamn mother … FUCK!" He yelled. "You could have jeopardized everything."

"Me?" Michael demanded in disbelief. "What about you? If it wasn't for you wanting to fuck this kid none of this would have happened."

"Are we seriously going to have this conversation again? I didn't intend for this to happen but it has and now we have to be careful." There was silence for a moment and Justin could only assume Michael was pulling his 'I'm sweet and sorry face' because Brian continued calmly, "well, I guess she's here now so it's okay but _don't_ do anything this stupid again!"

The door opened up and the boys came back in. Michael smiled at his mom and said, "I've managed to convince Brian to let you stay for diner."

Debbie just raised an eyebrow sceptically and Justin snorted a little as Brian put his hands on Michael's shoulders and said, "they'll have heard everything, the walls are thin remember."

The shorter man blushed a little and made some excuse about going to help Emmett with the food.

"I'm going to have a quick check of the security camera screens in Ted's room," Brian said. "Better to be safe that arrested. Not that it isn't wonderful to see you Deb," Brian mocked, "it's just you could get us all put behind bars."

And then Justin was left alone in the sitting room with this loud, brash over-the-top lady, who'd pulled a gun on him just moments before.

"So, Sunshine," she grinned at him. "What's it like being part of the family?"

::

Something was wrong. He knew it was wrong. He was even pretty sure the problem was with camera seven but he couldn't work out _what_ was wrong with it. He'd been staring at it for 15 minutes and still he couldn't figure it out. It was still showing the road leading to the house from the left; it was the road Ted and Michael took when they went to the supermarket. It still had the same tarmac with that one tiny pothole to the left. It still had the same hedges and shrubbery growing either side of it and a couple of overhanging trees but something was wrong … very wrong. But what the hell was it?

"Hey," Justin interrupted his obsessive staring. Brian looked up to see the kid standing a little uncertainly at the entrance to Ted's room. "You coming down? Emmett's nearly ready and Deb's entertaining us with stories about some old guy she used to rip off."

"I've heard all the stories," Brian sighed. "Come here. Look at this." The kid walked over and looked at screen seven. "What's wrong with it?" The older man asked, looking up at the younger man as his blue eyes squinted a little in confusion.

"It's too still," Justin said after a moment or two. "Those trees and the plants, they're not moving at all. It's windy outside, they should be blowing about, like these." He pointed to camera six, which pointed down the same road but in the opposite direction.

Brian stopped. He felt like someone had dropped an atomic bomb in his stomach. The kid was right. The camera wasn't running. It was like it had been paused, showing the same still image for … how long?

"Shit," he breathed. He took camera four, the one that watched the front yard and span it around quickly to point roughly in the direction camera 7 should have been watching and as the picture was revealed his heart sank. He felt sick to the core.

"Oh my god," he heard Justin gasp beside him as police cars, vans and men appeared on the screen along with the odd news reporter. "What the fuck do we do?"

Brian ran a hand very slowly through his hair, pulling at the brown locks as he puffed the air out from his cheeks.

"Okay," he said calmly and picking up his cell phone. "We've got to find out where Ted is."

Justin nodded silently.

"You, go and pack a bag of your stuff. I've got stuff in the car but you haven't. And," Brian reached into his jacket and handed over a gun, the same gun he'd taken off Justin during the weird little standoff in the front yard earlier, "keep this with you."

He could see the tears welling up behind Justin's eyes but the kid just nodded bravely and took the gun in his shaking hands.

"We'll be okay, won't we Brian?"

Brian looked seriously at the kid. He didn't want to upset him but he wasn't the type to lie so he simply said, "just … go pack."

Justin nodded again and virtually ran to get his stuff sorted. This was shit. He'd almost settled down here. It was fucking Christmas day, he'd been looking forward to eating all the delicious food he and Emmett had been preparing and now he was throwing as much stuff as he could into a bag getting ready to run for their lives … again. He could hear Brian speaking in a low voice down the corridor; well at least that meant Ted was okay.

"I was just about to call you," Ted was saying. "I got near the house and the new GPS started going crazy. There's got to be four or five cars outside the gate just waiting. I got as far away as I could from there."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ted confirmed. "They didn't see me, I've got everything I need … and a bag of flour," he said, weakly trying to add some humour to the situation.

"Do you have any idea how they found us?"

"I know exactly how they found us," Ted said. "Is a Miss Debbie Novotny there by any chance?"

"Shit!"

"Yeah, they followed her. According to the radio news, they've been watching her for some time."

"I'm gonna kill Michael," Brian growled.

"I'd wait until you get out of there." Ted said seriously. "And Brian, I found out something else too. I managed to hack into one of the police radio waves, to hear what they were doing… and, well … they don't exactly want to find Justin alive."

"What are you talking about?"

"That Police chief, Stockwell. He's been calling Justin Jason the entire time. You thought it was a mistake because he's a homophobe and a damn republican. But it's not. It's not a mistake. They were trying to cover up a murder of a guy named Jason Kemp, I guess that's the identity of the guy in the dumpster. I didn't get chance to find out why because they called in more enforcements and I had to leave before they got there but … if they catch the kid alive, who knows what the fuck they'll do to him. But they're not really interested in him. They're not that interested in me or Michael or Emmett … they want _you_, Brian. It's your face everyone knows and it's your blood everyone's baying for. They won't stop till they get you."

"Shit!"

"Oh and one more thing, the story's gone nationwide. Every single person in the whole of the fucking states knows who you are. I hope for your sake you've got another good place to hide."

"I'll find somewhere," Brian said with more confidence than he felt.

"Okay well, good luck."

Brian just nodded and then remembering he was on the phone he said, "have a good life, Theodore." His voice cracked slightly but Ted had more sense than to mention it. "If we ever get free of all this shit, I'll look you up."

"Sounds good, Bri."

And then Brian hung up. Fuck! This was really, truly happening. Fucking Debbie! Fucking Christmas! It had only ever caused him problems. Firstly because it was an excuse for his family to get drunk, then because it was a day he was reminded he had no family and now this.

He marched out of Ted's room and went towards the stairs, passing his and Justin's room as he went.

"Is Ted okay?" Justin called out.

"He's fine," Brian shouted back. "Keep packing."

Brian was virtually pulling his hair out when he got to the kitchen. The site ahead of him was completely surreal. There was a fucking turkey in the middle of the table, bowls around the outside each with a separate vegetable. There were weird cardboard tubes covered in Christmassy looking foil put at six place settings, three had been torn in half and Emmett, Debbie and Michael were all donning the crappy paper hats. And they were laughing … actually laughing.

"Ooo, ooo, here he is," Emmett grinned virtually bouncing in his chair as he wiped away a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye. "We've got Christmas Crackers," he chuckled.

"What?" Brian frowned, because at that moment in time _nothing _seemed to be making sense. Did they not know how much trouble the were in?

"It's a quaint British Christmas tradition," Emmett smiled. "A guy I used to fuck showed me how to pull my cracker," he winked. "He was a bit of a dog actually but you know how I'm a sucker for that accent. One 'cheerio' and my legs are up pointing north."

Debbie let out her infamous cackle at that and Michael laughed a bit too.

"He looks so confused," Debbie chuckled, noting Brian's strained expression. "Michael, tell him the joke, from your cracker. Cheer him up."

"How do snowmen get around?" Michael asked reading from the small piece of paper that had apparently come from his broken cardboard tube. "An icicle." All three collapsed with laughter as though it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.

"That's great," Brian frowned "but I…"

"Wait," Debbie held up her hand to stop Brian, "before you go any further, riddle me this; what do you call a penguin in the Sahara desert?"

"I don't know but there's a…"

"Lost," Debbie announced, laughing hard at the shit joke.

"Great but there's…"

"My turn," Emmett beamed. "what do you get if you eat too many Christmas decorations? … Tinsilitus." He laughed a bit before concluding, "these really aren't that funny. What does yours say Brian?" He asked, throwing a cracker to him.

"What's got blue lights and siren and is outside our front door right now? The fucking cops."

"I don't get it," Emmett frowned. "It's not funny."

"It's not meant to be funny, Honeycutt," Brian snapped. "It's a fact. They're outside and they're waiting for us. We have to leave and I mean now."

Just then Justin ran into the kitchen. He had the duffle bag with all his clothes and Brian's laptop case of guns slung over his shoulders. His face was flushed from running down the massive staircase but his eyes were terrified as he panted,

"there's a man drilling the front gate. He doesn't look like it's going to take him long."

"Right," Brian turned to the others. "We have to leave, right now."

"But what about Teddy," Emmett cried.

"It's okay," Brian reassured him. "I've spoken to Theodore and he's fine. Thanks to his new GPS machine, have you both got yours?"

"They're right here," Emmett said, going into the living room and coming back with the two gadgets Ted had given them that morning.

"Excellent." Brian said, and then he turned to the kid and took a deep breath. He didn't want to do this. The thought of never seeing him again was more painful than he would ever admit, even to himself, but he had to do what was best for the kid. "Justin, you go with Emmett."

"What?" The kid cried, "no fucking way."

"You'll be safer with him," Brian insisted.

"I don't care," Justin was equally stubborn. "I wanna go with you."

"Well, you can't!" Brian yelled. He really didn't have time for this. Not with the police working their way through the gate.

"But I love y-"

Justin was cut off mid-word by the most horrendous, screechy, wailing alarm cutting through the house. That was it. That was the thirty second warning. That meant they had to go; no time to be nostalgic, no time to pick up anything else, just enough time to escape … they hoped.

"FUCK!" Brian said, pulling his gun from his waistband and cocking it. The others all followed suit, except Justin. He just stood glued to the spot his bags clutched tightly in his hands. He was completely petrified until he felt a strong hand on his bicep and Brian hissed, "move," in his ear. And then they were off, straight through the French doors and down the garden.

Justin didn't think he'd ever run so fast in his life. The other men seemed to just stride the distance out no problem. He assumed Emmett and Brian's long legs would help them but Michael and Debbie were quick too, maybe because they all knew that one day they'd have to run. Justin was quickly lagging behind but Brian refused to leave him. He just held his wrist and dragged him along. Justin tripped and stumbled his way after them, willing himself to stay upright, knowing if he fell it could be all over.

His lungs were straining. Hhis eyes were streaming. His head felt woozy. The bags knocking against his knees only seemed to be encouraging him to fall over.

"Come on," Brian was saying at his side. "Come on!" So Justin kept trying, one foot in front of the other as fast as he could and then it happened. The sound like a whip cracking in the distance and the primal acknowledgement of something tiny and black whizzing past his face like … well, a bullet.

"Shit," Justin whispered, his feet began to slow down in shock but Brian just pulled him along with one hand whilst pointing back and shooting blindly at the cops with the other.

The sound of gunfire was resonating around the garden. It sounded like the final scene of a western, Justin thought. People shooting everywhere. The bad guys on the run as the good guys gave chase and Justin's stomach dropped like a lead weight. Never, in any film, book, play or TV programme had the bad guys ever won. Maybe in real life they could be more lucky. Suddenly, they stopped next to a smallish white building. Brian threw Justin behind him and was now facing the cops taking near perfect shots at all of them. Emmett and Debbie were doing the same as Michael punched a code into what looked like a stone ornament. As soon as the last number went in, a door that was concealed in the wall clicked as it unlocked and Michael kicked it open just as Emmett let out a blood curdling scream.

::

Justin tried to see what was wrong with Emmett but he was already being pushed roughly through the door by Brian, who then stooped to help Michael pick Emmett up off the floor and move him into the hut. The sound of bullet's ricocheting off the wall just inches from Brian's head meant Justin was having a hard time breathing and Emmett's painful moans were even worse as he was brought inside. Debbie was still shooting at the officers until she managed to firmly shut the door behind her and set the deadlock.

The room was pitch-black. Justin put his hand a few inches in front of his face and still couldn't see his fingers wiggling; of course it would be that moment that Brian would turn the lights on, illuminating Justin's childish display.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Brian asked.

"Nothing," Justin shrugged, turning around to see Emmett splayed out on the concrete floor, a deep red stain growing quickly on the left sleeve of his shirt.

"I'm dying," the queen was gasping. "Please, go on without me."

"Get over it you big baby," Debbie chided. "It's just a flesh wound. The bullet grazed you." Then she took off her Christmassy coloured scarf and wrapped it very tightly around Emmett's arm. "You'll be absolutely fine as soon as I can get some bandages and some anti-septic ointment." She looked to Brian pointedly.

"In the boot of the gold Miata," he answered, indicating the car on the left of the four impressive looking getaway cars stored in this garage.

It was obvious each getaway car had been hand chosen by its owner. There was a silver Bentley continental, sitting in the centre which could only have belonged to Ted. The white mini-cooper on the right and had a flower on the dashboard could only belong to Emmett. He probably thought it was 'so The Italian Job'. The green Corvette Stingray in the middle, the ultimate boys' toy was beautifully crafted and elegant; in short, it screamed of Brian Kinney. Which meant, the Miata that Debbie was currently rummaging through was the car Michael had chosen and Justin couldn't help wonder if he'd been high when he picked it because it was, without doubt, the ugliest fucking thing he'd ever seen.

Justin didn't have long to look at the cars however, as Emmett, who continued to do a very good impression of a dying tortured heroine at the end of one of those opera's Ted loved so much, let out a particularly loud cry.

"Tell my family how I lived," he called out in a theatrical voice. "I've lived a good life. I don't regret one second." He paused for a moment, "what are some really great last words from the movies?"

"What about 'ahhhhhh'?" Brian said. "Usually when someone walks off a cliff or a bridge."

"Shut up asshole," Emmett scorned, wincing a little as the pain in his arm smarted. "Ooo, I know, what were Jack's last words in Titanic?"

"Fucking hell, I'm freezing?" Brian suggested.

"No, it wasn't that." Emmett frowned. "God, I really am dying if I can't remember that."

"It was 'never let go'." Justin informed him, which earned a snort from Brian.

"How fucking ironic," he chuckled. "Still, it goes to show I guess you can't rely on anyone. Not even your 'true love' if such a sickening notion really exists."

"Will you stop being such a cynic on my death bed?" Emmett demanded, hissing and grimacing as Debbie began to unwrap the scarf from his arm and apply the anti-septic ointment.

"You're not really dying? Are you Em?" Justin asked, looking genuinely scared. The older man did look pale and there was a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Maybe it was worse than he'd originally thought.

"Of course he's not dying," Brian scorned. "He's fucking fine. He's just having a bit of a queen out."

"Brian," Justin scolded, "he's been shot."

"It grazed him," Brian snapped. And although he was right, the bullet had just caught the very edge of Emmett's arm, it didn't seem to matter to any of the other drama queens who were _far_ too busy making this into something much bigger than it was.

"Look," Brian growled after a few more minutes of fussing over Emmett. "The police aren't gonna waste their time trying to get through this wall all day." He patted the stupidly thick, soundproof concrete wall that was currently keeping the cops out. "Soon, they're gonna try and find another way in and when they do, they'll be blocking our only exit out. We _seriously _need to get going."

"Well what are you gonna do with the kid?" Debbie asked, tying a final knot in the bandage on Emmett's arm, causing the man to grimace in pain. "He can't go with Emmett now. Emmett needs to come with me so I can look after this arm."

Brian looked at Justin carefully. He knew it was the most dangerous thing to take him with him, it could get both of them killed or arrested but what other choice was there. Debbie and Emmett were going together and Michael certainly couldn't take him.

"He'll have to come with me," Brian sighed.

"Don't do it, Bri," Michael begged. "Leave him here. Let the police take him back to his mommy and you and I can escape in the corvette," he stroked the bonnet of the green convertible. "Friends on the run, just like we always talked about." His eyes were shining with the idea of it but Brian just looked back solemnly.

"I can't do that," Brian said.

"Come on, Bri," he encouraged. "We all know that the only person we'll ever see after this is the person we drive away from here with today. This is the rest of your life Brian, the rest of _our_ lives. Just leave the kid. He'll be fine."

Brian took a deep breath and walked over to his car, opening the door and admiring the white leather interior. This was his dream car. This was the vehicle he'd chosen for the time when all bets were off and all chips were down. This was the moment. He'd been dealt the shitty hand and now he just had to avoid the road to hell for as long as possible. And now he had to choose who he wanted to have at his side for this final gamble for freedom.

He studied his options; leave the kid and take Michael, leave Michael and take the kid. Logically, he knew that taking Michael was the right decision. Maybe they could give Justin the Miata and tell him to drive and never look back. It would be for his good. He'd be safest that way. The police weren't looking for him anyway. They didn't even want to find him. Loyally, taking Michael was the right decision. He'd been friends with Michael forever and he'd only known the kid a few months. Nostalgically, taking Michael was the right decision. This had been _their_ dream for so long, riding off into the sunset with the police on their tails, a modern day Bonnie and Clyde.

But logic and loyalty and nostalgia didn't matter because when Brian looked over at the passenger seat of his Corvette there was only one person he could imagine sitting there next to him and that's why he said;

"Justin, you coming?"

The kid nodded enthusiastically, ignoring the stunned faces of the others as he ran over and threw his case in the trunk before jumping into the passenger side.

"You take care of yourself now, Mikey," Brian said, walking over to the stunned man and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Then he pushed a button on the wall to open a hidden garage door straight onto an empty country road, not a fucking cop insight. It was almost too easy.

"Honeycutt," he patted Emmett on the injured arm, smiling wickedly as he emitted a hiss of pain from the tall queen, "don't go getting yourself shot anymore."

"I'll try, Bri," Emmett said, shaking his head fondly as he watched Brian walking back to the Vette calling to Debbie as he went;

"Try not to get followed, eh Deb?"

"Thanks for the advice ... asshole."

And with that, Brian folded himself into the car, wound down the window and slammed his foot down on the accelerator, roaring the engine into life. As he blasted past them and out the door, he shouted joyously;

"See you in hell boys!"

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who's reading ... **


	13. Chapter 11

It was dark and bleak. There was no moon and the stars were hidden behind thick black clouds that were just beginning to release the rain they'd been threatening all day. And that's how long they'd been driving … all fucking day. Firstly, Brian had taken them much further into West Virginia driving straight through any big cities, the point was to be seen, let people tell the police that they'd fled into West Virginia and then he'd turned around and driven back along the quieter roads. Brian had only stopped twice once for a piss behind a tree at the side of the road and once to change the number plates as they approached the Pennsylvania state border. He'd made a phone call as they'd crossed the border. He'd spoken in a low voice and Justin, despite being hardly any distance away from him could barely make out what he was saying but after that he'd announced he had a place for them to stay and Justin felt a little better.

Justin's stomach had been growling for hours but he couldn't eat. He'd tried to eat some of the 'emergency food', a couple of bags of chips and some cookies, that Brian had stored in the glove box but it had just made him feel sick. He had a horrible feeling now that they weren't ever going to escape the cops and be able to live normal lives. He realized that this was it … forever. Running from location to location, avoiding getting caught. He'd probably never see Emmett again or Ted … or Michael though that was less of a loss. His mother would probably never know that he was alive and with the man he loved and tears began to run down his face.

"Don't," Brian said sternly, as he saw the kid wipe a tear away. "Just hold it together for a little while longer."

"Do you know where we are yet?"

"Yeah, not far outside Pittsburgh" Brian said, checked the GPS for cops but there was still nothing. He'd avoided every one like a troll in a bathhouse. "There's a place, I know. It's safe for now."

"Is it really wise to go back to Pittsburgh?"

"Probably not, but every state is on the lookout for us. It's better here in a place I know, protected by a person I trust than some dodgy motel where anyone could turn us in."

Justin nodded as they drove down streets that were beginning to look semi-familiar to him. Pittsburgh. He'd guessed that one day he'd return here but he hadn't expected it to be like this, under the cover of darkness and fearful of being seen. Suddenly, Brian turned down a very dark alley and Justin's stomach dropped. He could smell the stench of rotting garbage through the air con and Brian quickly turned it off as they crept down the cobbled backstreet. He pulled out his phone and made a call.

"Marv," he said, his voice low and deadly serious. "We're outside." … "No, not Michael." … "The kid." … "No he's not fucking dead. Fuck off." He hung up the phone and placed back into his pocket before pulling to the side of the alley and looking up at the building to his left. It looked like the back of some kind of take-out restaurant. The door was open and steam was pouring out and rushing into the air. The garbage bags that surrounded the doorway were vile and the bricks had graffiti all over them. It couldn't have been more different from the house they'd been living in.

"This is it Sunshine," Brian sighed. "Home sweet home."

Brian got out of the car, just as a large, chubby man came out of the kitchen, with his hand out to shake Brian's.

"It's been a while Brian," the man said, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "I was beginning to think you'd never call me up on that favour I owed you."

"I told you I'd use it when I needed it most," Brian informed him, with a smile. "This is Justin," he said, as the kid struggled to squeeze himself and his bag out through the tiny gap between the car door and the wall.

"Nice to meet you, Justin," the man said. "The names Marvin, but you call be Marv."

"Hi, Marv," Justin nodded politely, holding out his hand. It never failed to amaze him how, even in the oddest, most unlikely of situations, Justin's gentile country club upbringing came back to get him. "Er, Merry Christmas."

"You too, kid." They shook and Brian just laughed at the absurdity of it all.

"So, Marv, you got our room ready?"

"Only the best for you, Bri," the man confirmed grandly. "Premium plastic buckets to catch the leaks, you're lucky the rains gone off. Top of the range paper and bluetac for the skylight blind. And the finest quality third or fourth, or perhaps even fifth, hand mattress … double of course."

"Of course," Brian replied, smirking a little at the horrified look on the kid's face. Marv didn't miss it either.

"What were you expecting, kid? The Ritz?"

"Er, no." Justin shook his head quickly. He was so out of his depth he felt like he'd already drowned and was now just sinking to the bottom looking upwards for someone to save him.

"You just be grateful we had health and safety snooping around a couple of weeks ago. Otherwise the rats would still be there."

"R-rats?" Justin gulped causing Brian to smile again.

"Get my bag out of the trunk, Sunshine," he called. "Marv and I need to discuss terms of payment."

Justin wasn't far enough out of earshot to miss the conversation unfolding.

"I'll take a blow-job, Bri." Marv was saying and although they both laughed, Justin couldn't help feel he wasn't entirely joking.

"Ahh, now what would your good _husband_ say if he heard you offering things like that," Brian smirked. "How is Ignacio?"

"Perfect, as always," Marv sighed. "I told him you were coming to use the room. He's putting a duvet and a few floor cushions up there for you now. We both owe you so much. I'm glad you're giving us a chance to repay you."

"Yeah," Brian nodded solemnly. "Just don't go handing us over to the police."

"Never," Marv promised and Justin noted he seemed genuine. He wondered what Brian had done for him to make him this grateful. "So where's Michael?"

"You know how it is on the run. You can't be sentimental or loyal. You just get the fuck out of there. That," he smiled, "and the corvette only had two seats."

"And of course you have to have along a kid with a nice ass or you'd end up handing yourself in just to get some action," Marv beamed.

"Of course," Brian smirked. "Imagine it. I could have ended up so desperate I'd have even tried to fuck you."

"There's a time when I wouldn't have minded that," Marv said, half-sultry, half-embarrassed.

"And now, there's Ignacio."

Marv nodded and Justin couldn't help notice there was an expression of slight regret on his face.

"I still miss it," he whispered to Brian as Justin returned struggling to keep the bags away from the puddles of unnameable liquid that were all over the floor.

"Of course you do," Brian said, taking his own large, leather medical-looking bag from Justin and putting it on his shoulders. "But you decided to go back to the not-so-straight and narrow real world." He looked up at the back of the restaurant that they were now to call home. "And, now you own a Mexican restaurant," he scoffed.

In Brian's world there was nothing worse than being one of them; a law abiding citizen. They were just the fags who accepted how the breeders told them to live their lives. There were rules and laws and things you had to do, but not in his world. In his world, he fucked who he wanted, he bought what he wanted, he did what he wanted. No excuses, no apologies, no regrets. And okay, so there were bumps along the way, this particular bump being more like a mountain but he wouldn't trade it in for the straight life, in more ways than one.

::

Marv took Brian and Justin up the metal fire escape on the side of the building for fear that going through the kitchen would raise the suspicions of his staff. The metal frame creaked and rattled with every step and Justin wasn't sure the top platform would take his, Brian and Marv's weight all at once but as he hesitated on the top step of the ladder, Brian snapped at him to hurry up and he jumped onto the platform. It groaned a little under the weight but it managed to resist plummeting them to almost certain death.

It took _ages_ for Brian and Marv to force the window open. It seemed to be only able to open an inch at a time but eventually, the two men had forced it open enough for Brian and Justin to slide through. Marv couldn't fit, so he just waved them off and told them he'd see them in a moment.

"Where is he going?" Justin asked, pulling his jacket closer around him. It was almost impossible to see anything in this 'room'. The only light was that coming through the window they'd just climbed through and the filthy skylight in the roof and it was just the dull orangey shine of a flickering streetlamp.

"He's going to come back through the door," Brian explained, trying to force the window shut again. "Here, help me with this."

Justin rushed over but he wasn't as strong as Marv so the thing didn't move at all.

"Goddamn window," Brian hissed when it became obvious it wasn't going to shut. He gave up and leant against the windowsill surveying the so called room ahead of him. "So, what do you think?" he smirked to Justin.

"Well," the kid shuddered a little, also sitting on the windowsill and moving close to Brian, "the bits I can see, which are mainly shaded now by yours and my shadows, are … lovely," he joked. "And I can only imagine there are even _more_ delights in the shadows."

"You have _no_ idea," Brian said, slipping his arm around the younger man's shoulders and pulling him close in a way he hoped was reassuring.

"How long have we got to stay here, Bri?"

Brian could feel the kid's hopeful gaze burning the side of his face and he knew he couldn't look at him, not knowing how he'd dragged him from a perfect home and a mother who'd obviously loved him and brought him into a life of lies and deceit and fear and now they sat on a windowsill in a shithole attic space above the Mexican restaurant of a couple of old friends, on the run from the authorities and wanted by the police. The only answer he gave was a little shake of the head and Justin knew they were going to be here until it was over, one way or another.

Justin looked around the room. By now, his eyes were growing accustomed to the gloomy light; he could make out the outline of a door in the middle of the wall. He noted a mattress that was raised up on some wooden pallets at the opposite end of the room. There were some large cushions under the skylight, that must have been courtesy of Marv's boyfriend Ignacio and he thought he could make out a toilet and a sort of tiny shower thing in the darkest corner over the far side. The floor seemed to have been covered by large pieces of plywood and the whole thing looked like an abandoned half-hearted attempt at a loft conversion.

He was just trying to work out what a strange looking bendy tower to his right was, when the door slammed open causing him to jump so violently he genuinely believed he'd have fallen out of the window had Brian not been there to catch him.

"Damn thing," Marv growled, marching into the room. Justin could just make out the grin he shot them as he explained, "it hasn't been opened in nearly ten years."

"What happened to living above the restaurant?" Brian asked casually as he stood up to give the window another tug, of course this time, with Marv's help, it shut much more easily.

"Ah, you know," Marv said, wiping his brow from the exertion, "Ignacio had far too much stuff."

"I did not," came a heavily accented protest from the shadows. Justin jumped. He hadn't even noticed the skinny man stood near the door. Damn this dim light.

"Ignacio," Marv held out an arm, beckoning the skinny man into the orange light from the window. "You remember Brian."

"Ah, of course. Brian, you look fabuloso," the skinny man, who had dark hair and beautiful tan skin and massive, expressive, brown eyes, hugged Brian like a long lost friend. "It has been too long."

"And this," Marv continued with the introductions, "is…"

"Justin," Ignacio cried delightedly, pulling the kid into a hug. "You are more handsome in the skin than those pictures on the TV. And you are not the child they make you out to be. Here you are … eres un chamaco muy apuesto."

Justin just frowned in confusion.

"A handsome boy," Ignacio explained, running his finger over Justin's pecks lightly until Brian smacked it away sharply.

Ignacio seemed to fix Brian with a strange look, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy. "Celoso?" He asked with a twinkle in his eye.

And Justin was incredibly surprised to hear Brian answer, "no," as though he'd understood.

"Qué? Le amas?"

Brian's jaw was set but he didn't respond to whatever Ignacio had said, he just turned to Marv and said, "thanks for the room Marv but we're both tired from our day."

"Of course," Marv agreed, taking hold of Ignacio's hand and virtually dragging him from the room. "Are you hungry?" he called as he got to the door. "I'll send Ignacio up with some food."

Almost as though in response to the question, Justin's stomach rumbled loudly.

"Great," Brian said. "Sounds perfect."

With that they disappeared out of the door, leaving Justin and Brian alone in their new home once again.

"I think I'll take a shower," Brian said steadily.

"Oh, okay," Justin nodded.

"I'd ask you to join me but," Brian looked over to the tiny shower as explanation. "And there's nothing sexy about cold showers anyway."

"The shower's cold?" Justin asked, his face screwing up in utter disgust. Brian just nodded apologetically, before kissing Justin on the forehead and making his way over to the shower area carefully.

Justin decided to go and explore the strange tower he'd spotted earlier, he shuffled his feet along the plywood trying to avoid tripping over the edges as he moved towards his intended target. Eventually he got to them and discovered there were ten or twelve buckets balancing one on top of the other.

"Buckets?" he thought out loud. "Why would you need buckets?"

"It's for the leaks," Ignacio's voice behind him made him jump virtually out of his skin. "Sorry," the taller man laughed, handing over a brown paper bag. "I thought you would like some food. There are fajitas, tamales and a little Polo del Fuego. Be careful it is very hot … like you," he added flirtily and then looking to Brian's naked body squashed into the tiny shower, "like him."

Justin couldn't help feel uncomfortable as he watched this skinny, but beautiful, man openly devouring the shower scene ahead of them. Justin cleared his throat a little and opened the brown bag.

"Er, this smells delicious," he said, trying to get Ignacio's attention away from Brian.

"The best," Ignacio confirmed turning back to him with a smile. "And do not worry, you will be safe here. I was a criminal too for a long while. We are familia."

"Oh," Justin smiled politely, "I'm not a criminal."

"Justin, rayito de luz, we have a saying in back in México; 'Dime con quién andas y te diré quién eres'."

"What does that mean?" Justin asked warily.

"Tell me who you are with and I will tell you who you are. You hang around with criminals," his eyes shot to Brian that lustful look in his eyes, "you too, are a criminal. At least, that is what everyone will think."

Justin just shook his head. "People still think I've been kidnapped."

"And in ten years?" Ignacio asked, fixing him suddenly with those incredible eyes, "if Brian is still keeping you around are you still going to tell me you are just a poor niño who got caught up in it all."

"No, I just figured that after all this, Brian wouldn't want to steal and stuff anymore. I mean, he's got enough money to live off. We could just get…"

"Rayito de luz," Ignacio interrupted, with a sympathetic smile. "In México, we have another saying, 'Árbol que crece torcido jamás su tronco endereza' meaning 'Tree which grows bent will never get straight again'."

Justin's face screwed up a little in confusion.

"He is an outlaw, Justin," Ignacio explained bluntly. "A criminal, a fugitive, a lawbreaker. He will never be anything else. Do not expect of him what he cannot give you; you will only end up disappointed."

Justin lips drew into a hard line and he peered once again towards Brian, before looking, once again, at the brown paper bag in his hands.

"Thanks for the food, Ignacio," he said curtly, and then looked to the door with a heavy indication that the other man should leave now.

The other man nodded in understanding. "You are welcome," he said with a little bow of the head before leaving.

Just as the door was shutting, Brian stepped out of the shower dripping wet.

"Was that food?" He asked.

"Yeah, Ignacio's brought us some leftovers from the restaurant."

"Excellent," Brian smiled, wrapping a towel he'd taken from his bag earlier around his waist. "I hope you like Mexican food we're going to be eating a lot of it."

Justin just smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Ignacio had given him a lot to think about, more than a lot.

Before today he hadn't even considered the future, he'd been living for the day and loving it. In fact, until Ignacio had mentioned it, Justin had almost completely forgotten that Brian, Ted, Emmett and Michael were real lawbreaking criminals. He'd known it, of course he had, but it hadn't really sunk in as to what that meant. Had they killed people? How many people had they stolen from and ripped off? How many people had they hurt or terrified or ruined? Brian had been doing this for most of his life. What had Justin really thought would come at the end of this little adventure? Did he think Brian would give it all up … for him? He didn't know. He hadn't even considered it but now, in this tiny, shitty, freezing attic room, he realized that if he stayed with Brian this was it for the rest of his life, living in constant fear, never seeing his mother again. He'd never get to be an artist or do any of those other things he'd dreamt about.

"Justin," Brian's voice broke into his subconscious, "Justin … are you okay?"

Justin shook himself out of his nightmare and smiled. "Sure," he nodded. "I'm just a little tired."

"Well, eat something first," Brian said, indicating the floor cushions he'd sat down on and putting the food on an upside down cardboard box that would be a decent enough makeshift table. "And then get some sleep."

Justin just nodded. "Sure. Yeah." He took a couple of bites of tamales and then looked up at the other man. "You never told me you could speak Spanish."

"I learnt in school," Brian shrugged.

"Me too, a bit," Justin said, "but I didn't know what Ignacio was saying."

"He was just being a prick," Brian informed him sternly, remembering how the stupid twot had told him Brian was jealous and in love with Justin. "It wasn't anything important."

Justin nodded. "When he brought the food up, he called me a _rayito de luz_, what's that?"

Brian snorted a little. "He called you that?"

"Yeah," the younger man nodded as Brian laughed again. "What's so funny? What does it mean?"

"Sunshine," Brian smiled. "It means 'sunshine'. You obviously must just look like a sunshine."

"Or a _rayito de luz_," Justin quoted in a pretty hideous attempt at Ignacio's accent.

Brian just stared at him before saying, "never do that again."

Justin laughed and took another bite of the food. It was tasty but he wasn't feeling very hungry since his little chat.

"So what did you do?" Justin asked eventually.

"Huh?" Brian asked, tucking into his own meal.

"For them to owe you," Justin explained. He'd been mainly prodding his food with his folk for a while now, so he abandoned the tamalesand fell back into the huge floor cushions and just stared up through the skylight. All he could see was blackness and the odd glimpse of a star.

"I helped Ignacio get his green card," Brian explained, putting the rest of the food back in the tubs and placing them in the brown paper bag. "He had an expired visa and he and Marv had been fucking for a while and they decided they'd actually miss each other if they were in different countries so Marv gave me a call and I helped them out."

"How?"

"I forged papers and feigned test results and generally fucked with the system until they granted Ignacio citizenship. Ted was _incredibly_ useful in that particular job. He did a fantastic job altering results and changing statuses."

"Ted was involved?"

"Of course," Brian said as though it were common knowledge. "I've known Ted since we were about twenty. He was a friend of Marv's at college, they were both computer geeks and Marv was working with me and Mikey on jobs. Ted was just beginning to hang out with us when Marv decided he was giving up the high life to be with Ignacio." Brian pulled a disgusted face. "It was pathetic. But I guess it worked out in the end, Ted was much more talented with a computer." He smirked fondly as he remembered some of the incredible things Ted had pulled off for them with nothing more than a laptop and a little bit of time. "Anyway, about five years after we said goodbye to Marv, he calls and says Ignacio's being deported. Obviously, they can't get married so Ignacio needed a green card and we helped out. It was no big deal really but if they want to be eternally grateful, that's their business."

"So you give them the chance to be together and they give you a shithole to live in."

Brian snorted a little bit as he leaned back onto the cushions and wriggled his way over to the younger man. "They've given us a safe place to stay, where the police can't find us."

"Mmm," Justin nodded, as Brian started to lift the hem of his shirt, kissing every new bit of pale skin that was revealed. "It's still a shithole."

He could feel the soft puff of air hit his stomach as Brian laughed at his distaste of this place. "I've lived in worse."

"How?"

"There's no cockroaches" he dragged his tongue from Justin bellybutton right up to his nipple. "Or rats." He lifted the shirt over Justin's head and began attacking his neck, nipping and sucking in all the right places. "The shower works and the waters clean." He bit gently at Justin's ear. "And there's food virtually on demand."

"I don't know how you managed to make cockroaches and rats sexy," Justin said breathlessly running his hands under Brian's shirt and whipping it over his head.

"It's a gift," Brian chuckled a little, his teeth grazing over the skin as he worked his way down, unzipping Justin's jeans as he went. "You wait until it's raining and I have to make buckets full of rain water sexy."

"I'm sure you'll manage it," Justin moaned, lifting his ass up so Brian could remove his pants. And then, for no good reason that he could think of, he found himself saying, "what are we going to do when we get out of here?"

Brian looked up understandably confused. "What do you mean?" He asked, moving to kiss Justin again.

"When we leave this shithole? When the police stop searching for us?"

Brian shrugged a little. "A bank job maybe? Or a couple of shops? Why? You got something you want to do?"

"No," Justin shook his head a little, biting gently at Brian's neck as the older man reached for a condom from his previously discarded jeans. "Just, would you ever give up this life like Marv and Ignacio?"

"Give up the danger, the excitement; the sex?" Brian enquired smirking a little. Justin just nodded. "Never," Brian grinned.

As Justin watched Brian moving above him, he tried to forget every thought that was going through his head. Mainly that Brian Kinney would never give up this life but Justin wasn't sure if he could join it permanently.

::

Justin was quiet and miserable but Brian didn't know why he was surprised. Justin was always quiet and miserable recently. They'd been at the shithole for a week and so far, Justin had just moped around and drawn various things. He'd drawn most of the attic now. Although the place was a broken mess, it offered hundreds of fantastic things to draw, inspiration was all around him. All he had to do was get it onto paper. He'd worked silently, never quite smiling like he used to at the house.

"I know it's a shit situation," Brian had said, "but we have to make the best of it."

"I am," Justin had smiled back. But the smile was a lie, it was the same one Justin used to have after Michael had been a bitch to him and he was telling them all he was fine. It had only taken two days of this seemingly endless shitty mood for Brian to give up trying to find out what was wrong. Justin would only lie to him and say 'nothing' anyway. Though, from what Justin had said, Brian was pretty sure this constant sulking wasn't only to do with the living conditions but fuck if he knew what he'd done wrong.

On the eighth day, Ignacio brought up some clean bed sheets with dinner and also had a black bag for any washing they needed done. Brian put his dirty clothes into the bag and then called to Justin, who was carefully drawing the bucket tower like he had been for the last day and a half.

"Justin!" Brian shouted, after being ignored the first couple of times.

"Huh?" Justin looked up to see Brian and Ignacio looking at him expectantly. "Sorry?"

"Have you got any laundry?" Brian said, in a way that told the kid he was totally fed up of this mood.

"Er, yeah. It's in the corner." Justin pointed to a pile of clothes.

"Well get them then," Brian snapped. Justin sighed heavily and went to get his stuff and put it in the laundry bag.

"Good evening, rayito de luz!" Ignacio said cheerily. Justin just shot him a smile that could only be described as sarcastic and went straight back to his drawing.

"Bastardo," Ignacio muttered under his breath.

"Mm," Brian agreed. "I don't know what's wrong with him. He'd been like this ever since we arrived."

"Teenage angst," Ignacio smiled. "It is a problem when you fuck someone so young."

"It's not that," Brian said. "He's not happy."

"You know, we have a saying in México…"

"How the fuck would you know?" Brian snorted. "You haven't been there for fifteen years."

"Escúchame!" Ignacio snapped.

"I am listening," Brian sighed.

"We have a saying, 'No le pidas peras al olmo'," he said mysteriously.

Brian just frowned and looked at the other man like he'd suddenly produced a third eye. "Do not ask pears of the elm?" He translated. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Idiota," he sighed. "It does not make sense literally."

"It doesn't make sense at all."

"It means do not ask something of someone they can not do. Maybe your amante is not so happy with this life as you are."

"So … what the fuck am I meant to do about it?"

"We have another saying in México."

"Oh I'm sure you do," Brian scorned.

"Al mal paso, darle prisa."

"And what does that bullshit mean metaphorically?"

"It means if you are in a bad situation get out of it as quick as you can."

"That's not even profound," Brian scorned. "That's just common fucking sense."

"You asked for my help," Ignacio shrugged.

"No, I don't think I did," Brian said with a dangerous smile. "I'm pretty sure you just forced it on me."

"Now you are moody because you don't like the truth."

"What? No saying from the old country for that one?" Brian asked sarcastically.

"Hijo de puta!"

"Vete a la mierda!" Brian shot back. The two glared as each for a moment until Brian softened and looked back to Justin who was still just scribbling away in his notebook. "Where's your husband? I like him better."

"En la comisaría de policia," Ignacio smiled cheekily.

"That's not funny," Brian snapped. "Where is he really?"

"The police station," the other man repeated. "Do not worry. It has nothing to do with you. He has a parking ticket to pay off."

Brian just snorted. "Christ," he muttered. "The Marvin I knew would never pay of a fucking parking ticket."

"He's a changed man."

"For the worse."

"That is your opinion only."

"Mine is the only opinion I've ever needed," Brian smirked, even though his eyes were still trained on Justin.

The kid was really focused on his art like nothing else in the world existed. His mouth was open a little which was the expression he always pulled when he was concentrating. It was just him and his worries and anger but at least he had a release for it. He could pour himself onto the page and not worry about consequences. He could say with his art, all the things he wasn't brave enough to say with his words.

Ignacio followed Brian's gaze to kid and said, "talk to him. Ask him what he wants in the future."

"Fuck off," Brian snapped. He was getting pretty fed up of the other man's all-knowing attitude.

"But I can see it bothers you."

"I said fuck off," Brian growled.

"Fine," Ignacio surrendered, picking up the bag of clothes and bed sheets. "Adiós." And with that he was gone … finally.

Brian looked at the fresh sheets the other man had thrown on to the mattress and immediately missed the house and the times when bed sheets just magically changed themselves thanks to the house fairies, better known as Emmett and Justin. He sighed to himself.

"Hey, Justin. Get over here and give me a hand." He watched the younger man put the notepad down dejectedly and stroll over. He smiled when he caught Brian's eye but he couldn't make it reach his eyes. They pulled the sheets over the mattress in silence and then Brian changed the pillowcases as Justin changed the duvet. It was all sickeningly routine and domesticated as soon as the bed was made, Justin tried to return to his drawing but Brian grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Wait a second," he said, pulling the kid into a kneeling position on the bed. He wrapped his arm around Justin's back and pulled him close pressing an almost tentative kiss to the younger man's lips. As usual, Justin kissed him back. Nothing had changed really, it was just a feeling Brian got. The feeling that Justin wasn't happy, no matter how hard he pretended to be. And Brian knew why he was miserable and he had to do to correct it….

Brian ran his hands through Justin's hair, kissing him deeply and probing deeper, sliding his shirt off. They moved slowly onto the bed, Brian over Justin. They were taking it slow. It was important that it was perfect and memorable, especially memorable because it wasn't just a fuck … it was also goodbye.

::

It had been dark for a long time but Justin's breathing had only just evened out enough for Brian to think he would be able to get out of the bed without waking him. He went to his big leather bag that was still full of clothes, neither had unpacked their stuff, partly because there was no guarantee they wouldn't have to escape at a moments' notice and partly because there wasn't anywhere else to put it. He took out a pair of jeans and a wife beater vest and pulled them on in silence, before wrapping his leather jacket around his shoulders. The loft may only give them a little shelter and protection from the elements but it still kept them warm because of the rising heat from the kitchen below. He knew that outside it would be freezing. He zipped up the bag, cursing the tiny noise it made and freezing on the spot as Justin stirred a little in his sleep.

Once he was satisfied the kid wasn't going to wake up, Brian lifted the bag on his shoulder and went to the door. He took one look back and realized he couldn't leave without saying something, even if Justin wouldn't actually hear it. So he placed the bag down silently and returned to the bed.

He stretched out his hand and let it hover a few millimetres above Justin's face as though trying to memorize every inch of it, not that he hadn't already, but he was determined to drink in every little imperfection and every perfection that he had and store it as a perfect memory in his brain. Then, he pressed a lingering kiss to the kids forehead and whispered,

"Soñaré contigo, mi amor."

And without another word, he silently opened the door and crept away down the stairs. Brian Kinney could never have been accused of being altruistic until that night but, as he walked away from the man he'd risked everything for, he found himself caught up in an act of selfless generosity. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave his only safe haven and as good a hand himself over to the police but he had to. Because Justin deserved better than this life.

'Al mal paso, darle prisa;' if you're in a bad situation get out as quick as you can.

* * *

**MASSIVE thank you to 'Albiku' for fixing my Spanish! =D Gracias - see, I'm learning ;-)  
xx**


	14. Chapter 12

**Thanks to Boriqua522 and Albiku for all their help in this chapter….**

* * *

Brian looked at the Corvette for a long time. He had a stupid urge to stroke it and say something like, 'just you and me now old girl' but that would be ridiculous even if it was true. He also had the urge to call Michael, find out where he was and join him. They could resume the Brian and Mikey show for another fifteen years until eventually, he'd just give in and he and Michael could retire a couple of old queens in Palm Springs, or if this level of search continued, Spain. Then he felt sick. The thought of Michael and he growing old was about the most disturbing thing he'd ever imagined. Fuck that shit, he intended to go out in a blaze of glory _long_ before retirement or grey hair or wrinkles had even begun to become an issue. So it really was just him and the car; the lone ranger and his noble stead.

He sighed heavily and pushed the button for the central locking. The sudden flashing of the lights as the car signalled it's opening, brought to his attention a second shadow on the alley wall. His hand immediately went to his gun, which he pulled from his pants and kept pressed to his side.

"Who's there?" He said calmly and he felt calm, for the most part. The part that wasn't calm, however, was eating quickly away at the rest of him.

What if it were the cops? Or a happy go lucky mugger with a gun and a nervous disposition? Or what if it were something else altogether? He heard a noise behind him and immediately swung around and pointed his gun in its direction but there was nothing, just some bricks and mortar. He frowned, lowered the gun and turned back towards his car. And that's when he saw it, the outline of a man stood casually next to his fucking car. He pointed the gun straight at the shadow and growled menacingly, "who are you?"

The man didn't answer for a second, he just muttered something that sounded a lot like, "always with the goddamn gun," and stepped forward just a foot into the light. First to be revealed was the mop of blonde hair, then the milky white skin and the seemingly innocent blue eyes. And then, last of all, the furious expression. Shit, Brian thought, he must not have been as quiet as he thought, when he'd left the bed.

"Going somewhere?" Justin hissed.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Brian asked.

"I should ask you the same question. Did you actually think you could just sneak away in the middle of the night?"

Brian shrugged awkwardly. "It seemed like the best thing," he answered sheepishly. He felt like an idiot now. When he'd made this decision, he'd imagined the act to be chivalrous and altruistic but it had turned out embarrassing and awkward. "It's not fair on you," he mumbled. "If I leave then you can go home, you can get on with a proper life."

"You can't leave," Justin said sternly. And then, with a little smile, he added, "what would you do without me?"

"I'm sure I'd survive."

"No," Justin answered confidently. "You wouldn't." He gazed at Brian for a long time until, eventually and with much reluctance, Brian met his eyes.

They just looked at each other and for a second, Brian didn't know how he'd managed to come so close to walking away from this kid. He was like a goddamn drug; more delicious than ecstasy, more addictive than cocaine, more dangerous than heroin.

Justin's eyelids fluttered a little as he whispered, "what … what would I do without you?"

"You'd do what you should have done a long time ago," Brian said firmly. "Find some twinky your own age."

"What would I want with some kid who's never done anything, who doesn't know shit."

Brian didn't have an answer so he just stayed silent, staring at anything other than Justin's face.

"So, you're willing to give up your safe house and potentially your freedom … for what?" Justin asked, his words soft. "For me to have a _proper_ life? Whatever the fuck that is."

Brian silently shrugged. He felt trapped in a corner. He'd always been a man of action, doing what he thought was right without a thought for reasoning or consequences but now he was facing both reason and consequence and he found both had rendered him pathetic, emotional and weak.

He heard Justin's footsteps getting closer and he saw his old, scruffy trainers come into his view before he felt strong but slender hands rest gently on his chest. The hands moved slowly, almost tentatively, as they moved to his shoulders, behind his neck and eventually pulled him close to hug him tight.

"Come back to bed," Justin whispered in his ear. "Don't be stupid. It's not over yet."

::

The next morning, Justin had cheered up immensely. Now that he knew what Brian would give up for him, he knew he loved him and he didn't need anything more than that. The attic didn't feel like the prison cell it had once, instead it felt like a rundown honeymoon suit. Brian was more than happy to see that Justin had regained his appetite for food and fucks and they both decided the days would pass much quicker now. Justin even talked about asking Marv and Ignacio to get him some paints so he could liven up the walls of the drab space.

"You are both still here?" Ignacio said with a slightly surprised look on his face when he brought up the dinner that evening.

"Where else would we be?" Brian asked casually.

"I don't know. Just yesterday, things seemed, er, how you say," he waved his hands around a little as he tried to locate the word, "ah, tensas."

"Tense?" Brian raised an eyebrow.

"Si, si." He smiled and looked at Justin before babbling something Spanish so quickly that Justin couldn't pick up a single word except 'amante' which seemed to be Ignacio's nickname for Justin when he was talking to Brian but whatever he'd said seemed to piss off Brian who snapped back quickly. Justin just quirked an eyebrow, there was something beyond sexy about this new found talent of Brian's.

The argument continued for a moment until Brian eventually exploded. "I should never have listened to your bullshit in the first place. And neither should Justin. You're a shit stirrer Ignacio. You always were. Anything to create a drama."

The Mexican shrugged haplessly. "I thought I was doing the best thing for both of you a bit of friendly advice from the old country. You know, we have this saying in México …"

"You know Ignacio," Brian cut him off immediately, "we have a saying in America it's; 'fuck off'." Justin snorted a little and Ignacio fired of a few insults in Spanish, which Brian returned with equal gusto before as good as kicking the man out of the room.

"That was no way to treat our host," Justin smirked.

"That's because you didn't understand what he was saying," Brian scowled, his fists clenched as he paced the floor. "Fucking, piece of shit," he muttered, marching further and quicker until … BANG! His head came into contact with one of the slanted beams.

"Fuck!" Brian yelled, spinning and punching his fist straight through the closest wall. Justin jumped in surprise as the drywall shattered under the impact.

"Shitty fucking walls," Brian snarled, yanking his fist free and sinking to the bed nursing both his injuries and scowling so much his features seemed to actually morph into something else.

"Brian," Justin said slowly, trying to asses just how angry the older man was.

"Fuck off!" Was the response; so it was safe to say 'very angry' then.

This shit mood continued for a while until Marv eventually came up to find out what the noise was and explain that the customers were becoming suspicious. Justin couldn't help chuckle at that.

"What did you tell them it was?" He asked.

"I told them I couldn't hear anything," Marv sighed. "I could hardly say you were huge fucking rats could I?" He looked at Brian's bloody hand and the hole in his wall and let out a bit of a groan. "You have to be quiet Brian," he urged, "if people think there's something suspicious up here they'll call health and safety or pest control or even the police and then you'll be fucked. Now," he said, taking Brian's mangled hand and looking at it more closely. "I'll get you some ice."

When Marv returned, he handed over the ice and patted Brian anxiously on the back, sitting down awkwardly next to him. "I, er, I've got something I think you need to hear."

"You're very serious," Brian noted cautiously, hissing as he pressed the ice bag to his hand. "You're not dying are you?"

"No, no, nothing like that."

"Ignacio's moving back to Mexico?"

Marv smiled a little. "No."

"Shame," Brian frowned. "So, what is this sombre news you have for me?"

Marv just looked at his friend solemnly. "It's Michael," he almost whispered. "He's been arrested."

Brian stayed silent. He just looked at his hand and asked very, very quietly, "when?"

"A day or two after they'd raided the house. The media caught wind that there'd been an arrest made last week but the police hadn't given a name but, well," he sighed, "now they have." Marv squeezed Brian's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Bri. I know he was important to you."

"It's okay," Brian said quickly, too quickly, as he got to his feet and threw off Marv's uncomfortable consoling. "It's fine. Fucking fine."

"Brian, are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"With you?" Brian scorned, looking at his old friend. "No. Why don't you return to loves young dream?"

"Er, sure." Marv nodded, making a speedy exit.

The door slammed shut and Brian sat back down on the bed just staring at a spot on the plywood floor where the boards didn't match up, so there was a lip sticking out a little. He focused on all the layers of wood mashed together and he thought of how he and Michael had used similar stuff to build a secret den in Deb's garden when they were kids. It had actually just been four bits of wood nailed clumsily together with a hole cut out of it and a sheet of green tarpaulin tied over it but the thing had managed to withstand the elements for the whole of summer break before finally coming down in the storm that hit Pittsburgh on Labour Day. He remembered watching it collapse through the kitchen window and feeling somewhat nostalgic about it. Their safe house, their place to be alone, the first place they ever kissed or showed each other their dicks. He smiled a little at the memories but he felt completely numb.

Michael, his Michael, his best friend, his soul mate in many ways had been arrested. It didn't seem right. Michael wasn't stupid, certainly not stupid enough to get caught on the run. There were places he could have hidden, Brian knew them all. There was the motel in Baker street, the hut in East Pennsylvania that his Uncle Vic owned as a second home, but he'd probably have been safest above Buzzy's comic book store. So why hadn't he gone there? What the fuck had happened?

Brian was vaguely aware of a dip in the mattress next to him and a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Justin whispered gently.

Brian was quiet for a moment and Justin wondered if the older man was just going to ignore him but then, his head look up slowly at Justin and he said, "I'm fabuloso, señor."

Justin sighed and screwed up his mouth a little. He knew Brian was lying but what could he do? "If you want to talk about it…" he offered softly.

"What's there to talk about?" Brian said, placing the bag of ice on the floor and pushing Justin back into the mattress, straddling him quickly. "Mikey fucked up. That's his own goddamn problem."

"But he's your …" and then Brian's mouth attacked his so hard all other words were swallowed by his insistent tongue. It was hardly seconds before Brian was yanking Justin's shirt up roughly over his head and resuming the kiss. And Justin couldn't help feel he wasn't being kissed so much as gagged. It was obvious Brian didn't want to think about Michael and he certainly didn't want to talk about him. So was this how he intended to avoid the pain of it, by fucking?

Well, Justin refused to be part of any _pain management _Brian Kinney was planning. He pushed his hands into Brian's chest and pushed him away hard.

"Stop," he gasped breathlessly. "Stop."

"Since when do you turn down the fucking of your life?" Brian snarled. He was pissed that he'd been halted so violently.

"When you're only doing it so you don't have to think about Michael!"

"That's not it," Brian insisted, dipping his head and licking a long line from Justin's collar bone to the patch of skin behind his ear. "You're just so fucking hot."

"Brian," Justin protested, pushing the man more forcefully. Brian fell limply onto the mattress to the side but he soon sat up again and fixed Justin with his most smouldering bedroom eyes.

"What if I say it in Spanish? I know that makes you hard, mi amor."

Justin sat up and turned his back on the older man, shaking his head firmly but it didn't stop Brian from trying. He pressed his lips to Justin's neck and murmured;

"Quiero follarte. Quiero follarte toda la noche."

"Brian," Justin whispered, his willpower crumbling by the second. "Brian, what are you saying?"

"What does it matter," his hand cupped Justin's cock through his pants. "You're hard, aren't you?"

Justin closed his eyes tight. No. He couldn't let this happen. He had to be stronger than this, for Brian's sake as well as his own.

"Brian." He pushed himself up onto his feet, shaking Brian off. "Brian."

"What? You know you want it."

"A fuck so you don't have to think about Michael?" Justin shook his head firmly. "I don't want that. Now," he took a deep breath, "if you want to talk, I'll be over there." He nodded to the place he liked to sit when he sketched and with that, he stood up and walked away leaving Brian sprawled flat out on the bed being forced to think.

"Fuck," he shouted, running his hands down his face exasperatedly. Justin jumped a little at the sharp sound. He looked over to see Brian just staring up at the battered ceiling before he finally announced, "I need a shower," and disappeared into the tiny cubical.

::

As Brian had got out of the shower, Justin went in. He needed to be away from Brian for just a few minutes longer. He needed to prepare himself for whatever the backlash to Michael's arrest would be because he knew Brian well enough to know that even though he'd say he was fine and pretend everything was great, he'd manage his pain one way or another. So now Justin had refused him a fuck and his joints had run out a few days ago. Justin wondered where his sanctuary would lie. Justin didn't have to wait long to find out. By the time he'd stumbled out of the shower, Brian was well into a bottle of Jack Daniels that he had stored in his travel back for emergencies.

"Sunshine," he said loudly in that way he sometimes did when he was drunk. "You know what…"

"What?" Justin asked warily as the taller man grabbed him and pulled him close. "You're getting wet," Justin said.

"It doesn't matter," Brian announced, his alcohol breath, flowing over Justin and making him gag slightly. "None of it matters."

"It doesn't?"

"No," Brian shook his head, "because in the end … they always win."

Justin frowned. Brian had a horrible habit of turning even more vague and ambiguous when he was drunk. "Who do?"

"Them. The man. The authorities. The government. Tthe police. The slick, straight, white, male asshole who thinks he rules the world." Brian let go of Justin so suddenly that the smaller man fell onto the bed with a soft thud but Brian barely noticed, he just took another swig of his drink and sighed. "So what's the point? Why do we keep running? When inevitably the day will come when the universe decides we're to be punished for what we've done and the police come knocking on the door and they drag me to darkest depths of a medium security prison. And you," he squinted a little as he considered the other man in the room, "who knows what the fuck they'd do with you? Probably wrap you up in a straightjacket for complying or announce to the world you developed Stockholm Syndrome or," he pulled his gun out from his waistband and placed it against Justin's temple and said no louder than a whisper, "they'd say I put a gun to your head and forced you to fuck me." Justin looked up at Brian's eyes. They were a little bloodshot around the edges but they were unfocused. "They'd never know you're one of us." He pinched the kids chin and placed a sloppy kiss on his lips. "That you love the thrill and the danger as much as we do."

"I'd tell them the truth," Justin whispered back honestly. "I'd tell them I wanted you, that I wanted this."

Brian just shook his head. "No," his voice was still quiet, serious and solemn. "You'd tell them I made you. You'd go back to your life."

"I could never go back really, not now," Justin insisted. "And why are you talking like this?" He asked loudly, suddenly breaking the strange, strangled whispering. "Listen to me. Are you listening?"

Brian just nodded.

"It's not over yet, Brian. You're not going to give up."

Brian ran a hand down Justin's cheek, the cold metal of the gun handle scrapped a little at his pale skin but he didn't say anything. "You're so naïve," Brian commented eventually.

"I prefer to think of it as optimistic," he smiled, kissing Brian carefully before letting the older man fop back onto the mattress and spread out like a starfish, staring at the ceiling.

Brian passed out completely about half an hour later and after removing his shoes and helping him under the duvet, Justin decided to join him too. It had been a tough day maybe tomorrow would bring something better.

::

What tomorrow and the remainder of the week actually brought, was rain and lots of it. Before the rain had started Justin hadn't imagined how much the attic would leak. He hadn't expected to only be able to sit on the bed because it was the only dry patch of the room. He hadn't expected to have to change the buckets every ten minutes because the rain didn't just drip through the roof, it poured like a fucking waterfall. And he hadn't expected it to be so goddamn noisy, like fifteen baths all running at once.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Justin moaned returning to the sanctity of the dry, warm bed after emptying all the buckets for what felt like the millionth time. It was the sixth day of this shit now and although they had found plenty to do in bed, it would be nice to just be able to look of the window, or sit on one of the old restaurant chairs Ignacio had brought up to give the attic a more homey feel.

"I didn't know it could rain this much inside or out," Brian sighed, watching as the bucket closest to him was already a third full. "It makes you wonder how Marv and Ignacio cope if we're not here to empty these buckets. I mean do they just let the place fill up with water?"

"Probably. Oh, shit!" Justin groaned as another bit of the roof at the far end of the room, sprung a leak. "This is the last bucket," he moaned, pushing himself out of the bed and rushing to put the final bucket under the fresh downpour. "What the fuck do we do if anymore of the roof decides it's had enough?"

"Drown?" Brian suggested.

"Might be better off," Justin moaned, trying and failing to dodge a particularly large torrent of water on his way back to the bed. Brian couldn't help laugh as Justin's hair became plastered to his face. Of course, when Justin was close enough he decided to shake the water out of his mane like a dog, covering Brian with droplets of water.

"Twot," the older man moaned but he still pinned him to the mattress and kissed him deeply. Well … it wasn't like there was anything else to do.

::

Amazingly, as time went on, things got better. The weather improved a little and they'd both came to realize that the situation was shit but that it was up to them to make the best of it. They'd certainly made the best of it in the makeshift bed and on the cushions on the floor, the old restaurant chairs, the shower … sort of. Everywhere the attic space permitted.

Justin found he had all the time in the world to work on his art. He'd managed to persuade Ignacio to buy him some supplies and his artwork had improved a lot, which Brian pointed out on one of the many lazy days they spent hiding out.

"You think so?" Justin beamed.

"Yeah," Brian confirmed, leaning over and flicking back through the sketchbook. Even Justin had to admit, the improvement from his first sketches to now was huge. "Maybe when you get out of here, you can try your hand at being an artist."

"I don't know," Justin blushed. "I might not be good enough."

"Probably not," Brian agreed abruptly, which caused Justin's head to snap up. "Not with that attitude," Brian clarified. "Think like a loser, get treated like a loser. But," Brian sighed, "if I had your talent, I'd at least give it go."

And as with any compliment Brian paid Justin, it had led to fucking.

Brian found the time when Justin was drawing was most tedious. That was the time he had alone with usually only his thoughts for company and they didn't make nice companions. He usually ended up thinking of Michael, of all the times they'd had together and of the way he'd left, waving like an arrogant asshole as he drove into the sunset with his blonde boy toy at his side. He wished he'd said goodbye properly because, even though Michael was still alive, Brian knew he'd never, ever see him again. It was impossible.

He'd taken to doing anything to take his mind off Michael. He'd spent two days taking apart and putting back together all of his guns … several times. He'd invented a game, where he had to flick playing cards into various tubs and containers with each one being worth a different amount of points. Eventually, he even consented to teach Justin some Spanish.

"Teach me the_ good _stuff," the kid insisted, bouncing excitedly on the floor cushions.

"Like what?"

"Well, I know how to say me llamo Justin."

"Felicidades" Brian mocked.

"Were you just sarcastic in another language?"

"Sí," Brian smiled. "You're learning."

"You're predictable," Justin corrected, with a smile. "So," he crawled across the cushions towards the other man. "Teach me the good stuff."

"You mean the swears?"

Justin nodded. "And how to say 'fuck me harder'."

Brian just smirked. "You know you could just say it in English, I'd understand."

"But what about when I've left you, and I've fled to Mexico or Spain and I need to talk dirty to some hot guy in a club?"

"You can call him a hijo de puta," Brian suggested.

"What's that mean?"

"Son of a bitch."

Justin chuckled, "are you getting jealous over some fictional future Spanish guy?"

"Or Mexican."

"I'll take that as a yes," Justin beamed. Then after a quick pause he said, "okay, role-play."

"Great," Brian smirked, his eyebrow raising immediately. "You can be a country club child snob and I'll be a gang member, who's kidnapped you and tied you up in some shitty little hideout above a Mexican restaurant." He smiled a little and lowered his voice to a sexy purr, "and then we can fuck."

"Tied me up?" Justin asked, his eyebrows raising a little in amusement.

"If you want," Brian nodded, nuzzling a little against Justin's neck. "I brought the jump ropes Ted bought us for our Santa's elf re-enactment."

"I'm glad you only brought the essentials," Justin laughed and then he stopped. "Wait. It's not that kind of role-play."

Brian looked genuinely disappointed but never to be completely disheartened he said, "could it turn into that kind of role-play?"

"Everything usually does," Justin pointed out and Brian just smiled.

"I'm in."

"Okay," the kid continued, "I'm in a club in Spain, in Ibiza, and I see a hot guy."

"I'll play him," Brian smirked.

"Of course," Justin grinned. "I walk over and say… Hola."

And, because he had nothing better to do and because this slightly amused him and because he was on a promise of kink Brian actually said "hola," back.

"Me llamo Justin. Cómo te llamas?"

"Erm," Brian seemed to think for a second before saying, "Pedro," so matter-of-factly that Justin actually laughed.

"Nice to meet you, _Pedro_," the younger man snorted.

"Igualmente, Justin"

Justin felt a shiver run down his spine. He didn't know what the older man was saying. He could have been telling him he looked like the back end of a donkey but the way the sounds rolled of his tongue, the way his lips moved as he spoke, Justin wasn't sure how much more he could take before he just dragged the older man to bed anyway. He blushed a little but he managed to stay composed enough, until Brian continued,

"Quiero presentarte a un amigo, Brian Kinney."

Justin frowned. "I think I heard 'amigo' and your name."

"Yeah, you did," Brian nodded. "I said; I want to introduce you to my friend, Brian Kinney." Then he lowered his voice to a whisper, "he's much hotter than Pedro. And, what a bonus, he speaks English."

"Mmm," Justin screwed up his face as though making a particularly difficult decision. "No. I think I prefer Pedro."

Brian couldn't help but let out a puff of laughter. "Twot," he smiled.

"Now, what's a good pick up line?"

"Hmm," Brian thought aloud, "a good line. What about 'soy un ladrón, y he venido a robarte el corazón'."

"What's that?"

"I'm a thief and I'm here to steal your heart. It's a pick up line _and_ factual, what more could you want?"

"Something less cheesy," Justin frowned, his nose wrinkling a little at the suggestion. "I wanna fuck him, not marry him."

"Oh, okay. Then you should probably go with 'Vamos a follar'."

"Which means…"

Brian just gave the younger man a semi-smug, semi-arrogant look and said, "let's fuck."

Justin chuckled a little. "Blunt and straight to the point. Do you think that would work?"

"It would depend on the bar and the guy," Brian conceded, "but," he shot Justin a wolfish look, "if he's anything like you then probably."

"Are you suggesting I'm easy, Mr Kinney?" Justin cried semi-indignantly. "'cause I'm not."

"Bullshit," Brian laughed. "You've been hard since the first Spanish word I said."

Justin blushed a little and almost looked embarrassed for half a second and then he just fixed Brian with his seemingly innocent blue eyes and whispered, "vamos a follar."

Brian smirked, leaning in to kiss the younger man. "You're a truly great student."

::

They were lying sated after a very 'hands on' Spanish lesson, in which Justin learned to say a lot more interesting phrases. Justin was going over and over them in his head, and storing them in his arsenal of weapons he used to get Brian just where he wanted him. Brian had just lit a cigarette and was taking a drag. He felt completely satisfied, even happy, in spite of everything.

"What's the worst chat pick up line you've ever heard?" Justin asked eventually.

"I got Theodore to walk around a gay club once saying 'I'm gonna rip all your fucking clothes off and make you sit on my nine inch dick."

Justin chuckled a little, plucking the cig from the older man's fingers and taking a drag himself. "Did it work?" he asked.

"I seem to remember he went home with a fucking ugly troll so … I guess so." He screwed up his face a little as he thought of Ted and the troll, "sort of."

"The worst line I've ever heard was to my friend Daphne. This guy came over, acting all masculine." Justin held out his arms and puffed out his chest as though the word masculine needed clarifying with gestures. "And he says 'I'm feeling a little off tonight, could you turn me on?'"

Brian laughed through his nose. He couldn't help it, the tacky line coupled with Justin's impression of a muscle-bound straight guy added to the fact Brian was inexplicably, and unequivocally happy had made him stupid and giggly. Christ. He almost felt high.

"What did she do?" Brian asked.

"Threw her drink over him. It was good to watch."

"Mm," Brian hummed in agreement as he took another long drag of his cig. "I think," he murmured thoughtfully, puffing the smoke into the air in perfect circles, "the worst line I've heard used in Babylon was to Mikey. We were about seventeen I guess. We'd snuck in with fake ID and this big bear had been cruising Michael since the second we'd walked through the door." He smirked a little at the memory. "Anyway, he walks up to Mikey and leans it really close, like this." Brian explained, pushing his lips next to Justin's ear and in a low, sultry tone he continued, "and lowers his voice, like this. And then, he says. 'Hey Kid, my dicks just died, mind if I bury it in your ass?'"

And Justin practically squealed with laughter, as he fell back into the mattress overcome with giggles.

"What did Michael do?" He asked, when he'd calmed down enough to speak.

"I don't remember," Brian shrugged, laughing. "Probably told him to fuck off."

Justin smiled a little, just looking up at the broken ceiling and thick beams before saying, "what's the grossest thing anyone's said to you?"

Brian thought for a second before deciding, "one guy asked me to be his boyfriend once."

"I meant the dirtiest pick up line," Justin laughed, putting his head on Brian's chest.

"Hmm," Brian hummed thoughtfully, his fingers pulling gently at the blonde locks. "There's loads."

"Just tell me a couple."

Brian groaned a little as he tried to remember the worst ones. "There are 206 bones in the human body," he quoted lazily. "Do you want another one?"

"That's gross," Justin laughed. "Did you fuck him?"

"Of course not," Brian scorned. "I've also heard; do you believe guys think with their dick? … Well, in that case, will you blow my mind?"

"These are awful!"

"No. That one worked," Brian remembered.

"Eww," Justin laughed and they starting giggling again. Brian laughed too. He felt like a pathetic queeny faggot but he didn't care as he and Justin swapped more horror pick up lines late into the night, Brian began to wonder if perhaps he could actually live like this forever.


	15. Chapter 13: unlucky for some

"What the fuck is that?" Brian asked, as Marv dropped a thin, rectangular box onto the upside-down box-cum-dining-table.

"A present," the other man smiled.

"Ooo, for us?" Justin asked excitedly. He'd literally just stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist and another drying his hair. So he dripped water all over Brian as he leant across him to pick up the box.

"Twot," Brian growled, wiping the droplets of water from his arms. "I thought you were taking a shower."

"I was but…" he trailed off but his eyes flicked to Marv.

"Oh," Brian said with over exaggerated understanding, "you didn't want Marv to get a look at your dick."

Justin blushed a little but ignored both the older men's chuckles and turned his attention back to the present. "So what is it?"

"A new butt plug?" Brian suggested. "Manacles?"

"Not exactly," Marv smirked. "Open it kid."

Justin nodded and ripped the lid off the box, to real a small plaque which read 'home shit home'.

"I don't get it."

"Happy anniversary!" Marv chuckled, holding his hands up above his head excitedly.

"What?" Brian snatched the box from the younger man and peered down at the present. "Oh, very funny."

"I thought I should do _something _to commemorate your living here for a month."

"Has it been a month already?" Justin asked, taking the plaque from the box and holding it against the wall. "What do you think?" He smiled at Brian.

"I think it's hideous." Then he flashed Marv a sarcastic smile and said, "thanks. What a pal."

"You're welcome, Kinney," Marv patted Brian's shoulder in a very breeder-style form of affection. "I'll see you boys later."

"Wait," Brian called as he reached the door. He rushed over and muttered something that Justin couldn't quite make out.

"Really?" Marv asked, his eyes flicking quickly to Justin.

"Yeah."

"When?"

"Next week."

"Hmm," Marv hummed. Then he chuckled and punched Brian on the shoulder. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"Fuck off," Brian said semi-angrily.

"I think it's.. erm … sweet. No, that's not the word. How about lesbionic?"

"I said fuck off." Brian snarled but Marv only laughed harder. Brian gave him a glare that would probably kill a lesser man and shoved him out the door.

"I'm going, I'm going," Marv chuckled. Then over Brian's shoulder he shouted, "later kid."

"See you," Justin waved. He still pretending to care about where on the crappy wall the plaque could be stuck. But as soon as the door was shut he said, "what was that about?"

"What?" Brian asked innocently.

"Your secret little talk."

"Nothing that concerns you," Brian said casually.

"But…"

"It doesn't concern you," Brian said more firmly, sounding every part of every word in a way that told Justin to drop the subject. And that was the end of that.

::

"Do you know what day it is?" Justin asked lazily as they watched the sunrise coming in through the skylight.

"Tuesday," the older man answered.

"Yes, but what else?"

"February 3rd?"

"Brian," Justin whined, hitting him lightly on the chest.

"What?"

"It's my birthday."

"Oh. Well done," Brian replied coldly. And then; "I need a shower."

And with that, he got out of the bed and disappeared into the cubical in the corner of the room. Justin stared up at the crappy ceiling and wondered why he'd ever expected anything more.

The day carried on much like every other day in the loft. Marv had brought them breakfast, two bagels and lots of coffee, and then they'd set about fucking for a while. Then Ignacio had brought them lunch, a fajita each, and then they'd gone about their business, Justin drawing and painting and Brian staring into space as he instinctively and methodically, took apart an impressive shotgun and put it back together again. Justin was seventy percent sure that Brian, in these long silent periods of contemplation, was thinking about Michael and how he was locked up in prison but Justin knew better than to press the subject.

It wasn't until dinner that evening, that Justin really noticed something was up. It was probably because both Marv _and_ Ignacio came up to give them food or perhaps because Ignacio had his hands firmly behind his back.

"Hey," Justin had smiled as their hosts had edged carefully sideways into the room like crabs. "What the hell are you doing?" Justin frowned.

"Very subtle boys," Brian drawled from the bed and that was the cue for Ignacio to produce the thing he'd been hiding, a tiny chocolate birthday cake with one candle.

"Happy Birthday, kid" Marv bellowed cheerily.

"Feliz cumpleaños, Rayito de Luz," Ignacio echoed.

Everyone looked to Brian expectantly but the man who was still sprawled out on the bed just shrugged and turned the page of his magazine.

"Ignore him," Marv suggested. Then he whispered so only Justin could hear, "he was the one who told us to get this cake so don't let him pretend he didn't." Justin just chuckled a little. He'd had no doubt that that would be the case but despite everyone in the room knowing the truth, Brian decided to continue to live in the lie.

"Here." Ignacio shoved the cake under Justin's nose. "Do not forget to make a wish."

Justin closed his eyes tight, so tight it gave him a headache, exactly the way he'd done as a kid. He readied the wish, took a deep breath and blew out the candle with only one thought on his mind; let Brian love me. It was a simple wish really, he supposed, and in his safe cocoon of darkness it even seemed possible but as he slowly opened his eyes to see Brian barely looking up from his magazine, Justin knew, however Brian might feel about him would be a secret Brian would take to his grave.

"We didn't know what to get you," Marv said heartily as his skinny annoying boyfriend produced a box wrapped in sparkly silver paper. "But we thought maybe you could use this to create a sort of note book alongside your paintings."

"Or you use them for whatever you want," Ignacio agreed as Justin ripped open the present and removed the box's lid to reveal a beautiful, personalized diary and a pen.

"Oh my," Justin gasped, taking out the book and turning it over in his hands. "It's… beautiful. I can't take this."

"You have to," Ignacio pointed out, his finger rubbing across the gold 'J. Taylor' that had been inscribed on the leather binding. "it is personalizado, no one else will want it."Justin smiled a little at that. He supposed that was true but this was too much. They'd already given him a place to stay, probably saved Brian from prison. He really couldn't accept a gift on top of all of that and he told them as much.

"Don't you be daft," Marv insisted. "Everyone deservers to be a little spoilt on their birthday. Even crazy runaways like you, kid." He squeezed Justin's shoulder and Ignacio kissed him on the cheek and said,

"we even cooked you your favourite meal for dinner too, Paella."

"Thanks," Justin smiled, as Ignacio pushed a brown bag into his hands, which he immediately put on their makeshift table.

"Now you boys have a good evening," Marv called and then more quietly to Justin, he added, "you make sure he treats you tonight."

"I will," Justin assured the older man as he followed the somewhat odd couple to the door.

"In the bag," Ignacio said as they were leaving, "I put candles. You can use them for el amor, the love, the romance."

"Thanks Ignacio," Justin said politely, though he really thought that romantic candles in this room would be a fire hazard _and_ a Brian hazard. They would probably set both off into a whirlwind rampage of destruction and fury and Justin wasn't sure which he was more afraid of.

Just as he was thinking it, he heard a soft thud on the floor behind him and turned around to see Brian sit on the bed, pawing through the bag and tossing the candles aside. Brian Kinney did not do romance. He pulled the two tubs of Paella and produced two forks.

"Want one?" He asked, holding the cutlery in Justin's direction.

"Sure," the kid shrugged strolling over and plunking himself onto one of the cushions closest to the older man.

"You know," Brian said almost bitterly, "they would never have gone to this much trouble for me."

"That's because you'd threaten to chop their balls off if they did."

"That's true," Brian agreed. "Which do you want?" He asked, holding the two identical tubs out in front of Justin. "Left or right?"

"Neither," Justin sighed, grabbing hold of Brian's arm and dragging him slowly off the bed, so he fell somewhat awkwardly onto the cushion next to him. Then he pressed his lips to Brian's neck and started to nip and suck slowly. He felt Brian stretch forward to put the tubs on the upside down box and then he could feel those strong hands roaming under the hem of his shirt.

"There's only one present I want," Justin insisted, licking his way up Brian's neck until he reached his chin and then he went for his mouth, kissing him furiously.

"Oh?" Brian gasped when they'd broken for air.

"Fóllame … por favor," Justin almost begged and who was Brian to turn down a plea for a fuck from the birthday boy.

It was after they'd fucked and after they'd showered and after they'd eaten and even after they'd shared the cake, it was when everything was peaceful and they were just lying on the huge cushions, staring up through the skylight … that was when the real surprise had come.

It was quiet. The only noise was the murmuring of customers' voices from below and the usual car noises and the odd siren, drifting through the many gaps in the roof. Justin could hear Brian's familiar wheeze and feel the older man's fingers as they remained entwined with his. He could feel Brian's thumb on the back of his hand, rubbing gently almost … lovingly.

Justin couldn't help thinking about all his previous birthdays. The first one he could remember was his fifth birthday because one of the kids at the party had accidentally knocked his perfect monkey cake off the table and he'd spent most of the day crying about it. He remembered his fifteenth birthday when his dad had taken him to a Steelers game to inject some masculine father/son time into his life … fat lot of good that had done. He remembered his seventeenth birthday, when he'd finally told his friend Daphne about his _huge_ crush on the school team's quarterback, Chris. And now this birthday was going to join all those as particularly memorable; the birthday he'd spent in an attic with the man he loved, hiding from the police and from the world.

"You know," Justin murmured after an unusually long period of near silence, "my dad always said he'd give me a car for my nineteenth birthday."

Brian frowned a little as though annoyed at the interruption but that didn't stop him asking, "why nineteenth?"

"I'm not sure. Something about family tradition," Justin remembered. "He told me that on his nineteenth his father had given him an old Chevy El Camino from some dealer and he had to fix it up himself. He insisted it helped turn him into a man."

"You think that's what he had planned for you?" Brian asked casually. "A little man training to knock back your inner fag."

"I thought man training would be the kind of thing to bring out your inner fag," Justin chuckled lightly. And he could sense Brian was smiling too.

"A car," the older man hummed thoughtfully for a second. Then he let out a bit of a groan as he detached his hand from Justin's and rolled over to rummage through the front pocket of his laptop bag of guns. Eventually, he found what he was looking for and smiled a bit as, from the front pocket, he produced a set of car keys. And not just any set of car keys, the keys to the Vette.

"Here," he said, shifting over on his stomach and wiggling the keys above Justin's face. "She's all yours."

"Yeah, right," scowled Justin, pushing Brian's hand away disbelievingly.

"I'm being serious," Brian insisted, finally ceasing to jangle them, and instead, resting them on the kid's flat stomach. "I don't have any need for it anymore." He noted the look of concern on Justin's face so he tried to placate him further. "Don't worry. It's not stolen. It's passed inspection and you won't have to update the tags until next August."

"Why did you bother with all that? You were only ever gonna use it when you were already running from the cops."

"Well, if you appear squeaky clean, people think you're squeaky clean. Less cops sniffing around, more opportunity to do jobs."

"I guess," Justin agreed, taking the keys carefully from his stomach and turning them over and over in his hands. "I can't take it." He said, without making any effort to part with the keys.

"Why the fuck not?" Brian asked. "It's your nineteenth birthday and you were supposed to have a car," he smiled a little, and tapped the keys gently with his forefinger so they clinked, "now you have one."

"But what about when we get out of here?" The kid asked, "won't you want it back?"

Brian let out a snort of bitter laughter. "How do you think this ends Justin?"

"Huh?" The kid blinked with genuine innocent confusion.

"This little … _adventure_," he virtually spat the word. "How do you think it ends?"

Well, he'd originally thought it would end with him and Brian moving to a huge house in some secluded Mexican village where the police would never find them. Then he'd realized that was stupid so he'd thought it might end with them fighting against law and order; steal from the straight, give to the fags … like a modern-day Robin Hood. Then they could be real OUTlaws**.** But that was all just the fantasies of a young artist. The truth was he'd refused to think about what would happen after this realistically because he doubted very much he'd like any of the possible outcomes.

So, he shrugged and shook his head, as though to say he wasn't sure how it would end … but he was sure, he knew exactly how this would end, he just didn't want to think about it. But as Brian started to say it, he knew it was the truth.

"The only way we get out of here is with you being returned to your parents like the prodigal son or a war hero and me being dragged away to rot out the remainder of my existence behind bars so," he sighed, closing his hands over Justin's which held the keys, "take the goddamn car. I don't really have much use for it anymore." He smiled down at the younger man, a defeated smile before adding sternly. "Just, look after it and don't fucking crash it!"

Justin smiled at Brian's warning but inside he was feeling a little miserable and deflated. He couldn't help feeling that this perfect, magical, beautiful, wonderful time he'd spent with Brian over the last few months was coming all too quickly to an end. He could feel the tears welling up behind his eyes as he thought about it, prickling his tear ducts. But he didn't cry, he just looked up into the eyes of the older man and wished he could get lost in that gaze forever and Justin whispered;

"Te amo."

Brian rolled his eyes and flipped onto his back. "Who's been teaching you filthy phrases like that?" he scorned.

"I asked Ignacio," the kid explained.

"Oh."

"But it's true," he explained. "I do 'amo' you … mucho."

Brian raised an eyebrow, his mouth twisted in a way that was supposed to seem condescending but actually just appeared to be hiding a grin. "You're pathetic," he replied fondly.

"I thought you'd say that," Justin sighed. "God forbid you ever actually say it back."

Brian said nothing, he just looked at the younger man with a face that clearly said 'drop it'.

"You know," Justin joked, his eyes gleaming mischievously, "I think I should just take my new car and leave."

"So why don't you?" Brian asked, his voice low and unaffected. "It would probably be for the best."

"Mm," Justin hummed as he turned himself over and rested his head on Brian's chest, and with one hand he began to unbutton Brian's shirt, allowing the black material to slide open.

"You said yourself we don't know how long we've got left here. I don't want to waste a second of it."Brian let out a deep, throaty grunt of agreement. His eyes fluttering closed as Justin's deft fingers began to unfasten his belt and unbutton his jeans. He felt Justin's perfect lips press to his ribs and begin kissing their way down.

"You know," Justin mumbled against the warm skin, his breath ghosting over Brian deliciously, "my mom always told me to properly thank people for giving me presents for my birthday."

"Well, your mom would be pleased to know you listened to her."

"And my Gran," Justin continued as he kept his kisses moving downwards, "used to say that the best way to say thank you is to give something back."

"Your granny sure knew what she was talking about," Brian agreed.

"Mm-hmm," Justin agreed. "Best make my family proud."

::

It was a day just like any other day to begin with. They'd woken up as the sun came through the skylight. They'd fucked and then taken a shower. Ignacio had brought them some breakfast and had stuck around for almost an hour, bugging the hell out of Justin, trying to convince him to create a new logo and menu design for the restaurant. It had taken forty-five minutes of incessant nagging before Brian snapped, "for fucks sake Justin, just say you'll do it" and Justin had agreed to start on it later that then they'd gone about the same things they did every day. Brian was doing his exercises in the corner and Justin was sat in the window trying out some ideas for the menu, when a whining siren started bleeding through the air. Justin froze and looked up immediately, like a nervous meerkat.

"Relax," Brian said casually, in the middle of his sit-ups. "It's probably for some ten year old thief at the drug store."

Justin nodded and smiled weakly. He hated living in fear like this. He went back to his drawing, a perfect outline of a dancing fajita, wearing a sombrero on a donkey and eating a taco. He wondered how many racial stereotypes he could include before it became offensive. He was just about to make the donkey's saddle blanket a Mexican flag, when he found his concentration disturbed once again by the wailing of a police siren. He frowned and then he heard a flurry of movement from the other side of the room, where Brian was pulling on a pair of jeans and a white wife beater vest.

"Brian?" He asked. He hadn't realized how dry his throat was until he tried to speak but now he could feel it was a dessert and he could hear quite clearly now that the sirens were getting louder and louder and louder.

"Get away from that window!" Brian ordered and Justin immediately jumped up and ran to him as the older man hunted quickly for his gun. "Shit," he hissed under his breath as he finally found in, unloaded under his pillow. Now to find the fucking bullets.

"What do we do?" Justin whispered, sticking close to Brian, not wanting to lose him for one second.

"We assess the situation," Brian explained as calmly as he could. "Bring me that chair," he pointed to one of the dining chairs. Justin ran to get it as Brian continued to hunt for bullets though he had a sickening feeling that even his trusty gun wouldn't save him now, because not only were the sirens close, there were lots of them. He only hoped Marv and Ignacio had managed to escape in plenty of time.

Justin brought the chair straight to him and he pushed it under the skylight. He climbed up and peered out of the gap.

"Fuck," he breathed.

"What's out there?"

"Six goddamn police cars," he hissed. "That's more than they brought to the fucking house." He put his hand on Justin's shoulder and got down off the chair. "They've got us totally surrounded."

"We might be able to break through the restaurant," Justin suggested optimistically. He'd fought too hard to just give up now."Brian just shook his head. "We'd be on foot and they've got cars, lots of them."

Then there was a new noise, a sort of thump-thumping of air above them.

"What's that?" Justin asked, grabbing Brian's arm anxiously.

Brian wasn't sure but it sounded like a, he looked up through the skylight; "helicopter," he muttered. Justin followed his gaze ans saw a Six News helicopter hovering above the roof. "Fuck!"

"So what are we gonna do? Brian? What's the plan?"

"I don't…"

"But you _always_ have a plan." Justin beseeched, tugging on the older man's arm. "Always!"

"But there's no way we can…"

Then a loud bang cut him off. They both jumped and turned towards the door. There was a shadowy figure stood in the doorway and Brian thought he looked semi-familiar but he couldn't work out who would be here now. And then the figure stepped out of the shadows saying, "hello boys."

"Michael!" Justin cried happily. He never in a million years thought he'd be happy to see the jealous little man but right now nothing in the world could have made him happier. "Oh my god this is amazing," he gushed, beaming. "We were told you got arrested." He went to walk to Michael, he was so pleased to see him he actually thought he'd hug him.

But Brian shot out an arm across Justin's chest and stopped him dead.

"He did get arrested," Brian said sternly not taking his eyes off Michael. His lips snarled up angrily as he glared at his supposed best friend. "How could you do this?"

Justin frowned. He didn't understand. Michael was there to rescue them. What could Brian possibly be angry about? "Do what Brian? Aren't you happy to see him? He can help us get out. Come on Michael, how did you get in with the police spotting you? Where are Marv and Ignacio, did they help you?"

"What are you doing here?" Brian asked, ignoring the kid; they both were.

"I was just aiding some new friends of mine on a bit of a treasure hunt," Michael said casually.

And suddenly, Justin understood. Michael _hadn't_ got in without the police seeing him. It was the exact opposite, he'd led the goddamn police straight here."How could you!" Justin screamed, he looked like he was going to run and beat Michael up but Brian caught him just in time and held him back, just as Michael revealed his weapon; an expensive-looking, brand new baseball bat.

"Careful, Sunshine," he sneered. Justin gasped and looked up at Brian, expecting to see him fuming, expecting him to be ready to kill. But Brian remained calm. He just stood in silent acceptance. Justin, however, wasn't so excepting. "How could you do this to him?" He asked. "He's your best friend … for Fifteen fucking years!"

"Come on kid," Michael snorted. "You know how it is when you're the least wanted member of the gang. They'll make you a deal, offer to clear your criminal record of everything you've done since you were fourteen in exchange for a few hundred hours of community service and the location of the main man." He turned his attention to Brian, an ugly sneer warping his face, "you're the one they wanted Brian. This whole thing has been about you but I don't know why I'm surprised," he laughed bitterly, "it's _always_ about you. It was about you all through high-school. It was about you fucking our gym teacher and getting on the TV news. It was about you turning up stoned to my prom and asking me to run away with you and join you on a life of crime. It was about you wanting to teach breeders a lessons; steal from the hetero, give to the homo," he quoted resentment coursing through every fibre of his being. "And it was about refusing to let me shoot him," he threw a death-glance at the blonde kid who was standing just behind Brian's right shoulder, seething. "It was about you refusing to let his goddamn father shoot him. It was about you bringing him into our lives when all he ever did was cause trouble." Michael was almost in tears now, the emotion and the pain welling up in his throat like a lump of jagged, scrap metal. He couldn't bare all this pain anymore. He needed to release it in angry, furious words, each one spat out in pain and hatred. "It was about you letting him come between us and letting him love you in a way…" He choked on the words and stopped. He took a deep breath and steeled himself, looking Brian straight in the eye with a determined expression. "You never gave me the chance to love you."

"So this is your revenge?" Brian asked coolly, if Brian felt anything at this moment, he wasn't going to show it. "To throw me to police, to hand me over on a fucking silver platter like a goddamn gift?"

He sounded unbelievably calm, given the circumstances. Justin couldn't understand why Brian hadn't whipped out his gun and shot the other man dead. He'd betrayed him abused his trust and friendship; _fifteen years_ worth of trust and friendship. Justin looked from one man to the other. He noted the contrast between them. Michael eyes were crazy and wild, he was possessed with these feelings of envy and lust, his ideas of a jealous, so-called 'love' he had for Brian. Whereas Brian, was calm. He was just accepting Michael's betrayal so easily. Justin couldn't understand. Where was the passion? Where was the hatred? And that was when Justin realized … Brian had known this day would come. He'd known that one day, Michael would snap. He'd just been silently bidding his time. Brian knew Michael too well to be surprised by anything he did and he loved him too much to blame him.

"I told them everything," Michael almost cackled. "They even let me come up here and talk to you alone first … providing I don't let you escape." Michael snarled, hitting his palm with the baseball bat threateningly. "But I'm not expecting any trouble," he smiled in a way that was disturbingly sweet and Justin shuddered and clung to Brian's arm tight. Michael looked like one of the crazed evil villains in those comic books he loved so much; perhaps Lex Luther, Superman's former friend, back to destroy him. "And all I had to do for that privilege was tell them about your little romance with Picasso Jr," he waved his hand dismissively at Justin.

Brian's eyes flashed with anger and although for the most part he remained calm, his clenched fists and trembling words made it obvious he was mad. Well, if Brian were Superman, Justin was definitely kryptonite.

"Why would you do that?"

"So that you'll finally fucking notice me!" Michael screamed. There was a loud battle cry from the bottom of the stairs and the crash of the restaurant's backdoor being kicked in shook the house. They could hear shouts and heavy footsteps on the floor and Brian turned his back on Michael and grabbed Justin firmly by the shoulders.

"Whatever they say," Brian urged frantically, "tell them I made you do it. If they ask if we fucked, tell them I held a gun to your head. If they say you went willingly, tell them I was blackmailing you, telling you I would kill your family. Everything you did was against your will, got it?"

"But then they'll just send you down for longer," Justin gasped. The stomps on the stairs were getting nearer.

"I don't care. I can deal with prison. I can cope with the whole process. But only if I know you're on the outside and you're safe. Do you understand? I can't let you go to prison too."

"But…"

"Promise me," Brian virtually screamed, shaking the kid. Time was running out. He needed reassurance that Justin would be okay and he needed it now.

"Okay," Justin whispered tearfully, nodding his head. "I promise."

And then Brian held him close to his chest. Justin could hear the quick beating of the older man's heart through his shirt, he could hear the thumping of footsteps on the stairs, he could hear Michael's ragged breathing but then everything else seemed to fade into silence because he felt Brian's lips at his ear and he heard a breathy whisper of, "I love you."

Justin just gasped. He stepped back from Brian and looked into the older man's eyes. He could see only sincerity there and he knew that this was more than just a declaration of love; it was also goodbye.

And that's when everything seemed to happen at once. It was over in a flash, a blur and a blink but it also seemed to go in slow motion. Justin heard Michael yell "liar". He looked up to see him lift the baseball bat above his head and swing at the head of his former best friend. Justin watched as the bat moved towards the man he loved and the only thing that went through his mind was saving Brian. He dived straight at Michael, he felt something connect with his skull and then … there was nothing.

Brian watched as Justin hit the floor in a lifeless heap, blood pouring from his skull and all over the boards.

"NO!" Brian had yelled, dropping to his knees. "No! God! Please. NO!" Nothing else had mattered at that time. All he could do was crouch uselessly by Justin begging and praying to a God he didn't believe in that Justin would be okay. He didn't hear the SWAT team enter the room. He didn't hear the clunk of the bat as it hit the floor, as Michael was ushered away down the stairs.

He didn't hear the policeman arresting him and then he was being dragged to his feet, metal pinching at his wrists as he was dragged away. "NO!" He was screaming like a caged animal. "LET ME GO!" He struggled to get back to Justin but the men were too strong. There seemed to be hundreds of them restraining him but he didn't give up, he just kept fighting. He watched numbly as a policeman bent down by the lifeless body.

"It's him," the cop confirmed to another.

"Oh that's perfect," the other cop replied with a genuine smile. "The scumbag, snitch really delivered."

And then Brian was being dragged painfully down the stairs and all the cops were leaving the room, not one of them staying with Justin.

"What are you doing?" Brian yelled. "You have call an ambulance," he begged but the police didn't care. They just shut the door to the attic and followed him down the stairs towards the alley.

No amount of struggling was going to mean he could ever see Justin again. No amount of protesting would mean they'd let him know what was going to happen to him. And the only thing he could think of as he was being hauled away was what Ted had said the day they'd fled the mansion; "_They don't want to find Justin alive_."


	16. Chapter 14

Debbie had decided that the safest place for her and Emmett to hide out would be at her bother Vic's. He lived in a tiny two-up, two-down in Pittsburgh just big enough for two people and now, two guests. Rodney hadn't exactly been pleased to see his partner's criminal sister and a 'friend' appear at the door on Christmas day but almost three months down the line he'd sort of become used to Debbie's loudmouth and Emmett's incessant whining about his arm, in spite of the fact the wound had been almost fully healed for a while now. He'd got used to watching the News with particular interest in the Justin Taylor kidnapping story, where they were still speculating on the whereabouts of the now infamous Brian Kinney. The way they went on, you'd have thought Brian had gone on a killing spree of puppies, babies and all other things in the world that were cute. And then had come the day of the first arrest.

They'd been eating dinner at the dining table with a small tv on in the background. Vic had whipped up some complicated, delicious Italian dish with a secret recipe his and Debbie's grandmother had left them. The food was amazing, the wine was amazing, the conversation was amazing and then the news reporter had ruined everything.

"Pittsburgh PD have made their first arrest concerning the Justin Taylor investigation this morning." Immediately the mood around the table was solemn as they all turned to look at the screen. There were no pictures, no names, no nothing. Just a reporter standing outside the Pittsburgh police station explaining that at this time the Police weren't giving any other information.

"Who do you think it is?" Emmett asked, though in his mind there was only one person it could be. Ted would never get caught he was too smart, too ahead of the police. Brian too, knew his way around, he wasn't stupid enough to go anywhere where the police could get him; even with the kid slowing him down Emmett knew Brian had a lot of people who owed him, a lot of people who could hide him. So that left … Michael. Yeah, he was smart enough usually but without Brian to look out for him? Would he actually be able to survive? Well, it seemed not. It was obvious everyone at the table thought the same thing but nobody would say it, not until they were certain.

"It's probably none of them," Vic said positively. "They've probably picked up _some _guy just to make them look like they're actually getting somewhere after their botched job at the house."

"This just in," the reported interrupted. "Chief Stockwell has confirmed that the man they arrested is one of the four main members of The OUTlaws.

"Oh my god," Emmett whispered. "Poor Michael."

"You don't know it's him!" Debbie almost shouted, her words gravely as she tried not to cry because of course it was him. Of course it was her son. Ted just wouldn't be caught and Brian was with Justin so they'd have been talking about how they'd managed to find the kid alive after all.

The reporter went on to explain how the mystery OUTlaw had been found hiding above Buzzy's comic bookstore and the whole table just watched in disbelief. Everything pointed to Michael although it would be another week and a half before the police finally confirmed that the man arrested was 'Michael Charles Novotny', the OUTlaws driver and Brian Kinney's right hand man.

The house was more than subdued, it was silent. Debbie could barely get off the sofa. She blamed herself. This was the life she had raised her son to live. She'd always thought he'd be okay. That he been smart enough for fifteen years to keep himself out of trouble and now just a few days on the run and he'd been caught. What had happened?

But of course she knew what had happened? The only reason Michael had stayed out of prison was because he'd had a guardian angel to watch over him but now his guardian angel was watching over someone else, someone blonde and cute and Michael had been left to fight the world alone. He was under prepared and under equipped and now he was behind bars. She'd kill that Brian Kinney next time she saw him. How dare he abandon her son like that!

::

The time went on and Debbie still couldn't forgive Brian for her son's arrest. It had been three months but they were still trying to decide on what to charge Michael with. The news hadn't mentioned the case for a while. In fact the news channels were just being put on out of habit and not because anybody actually expected to hear anything else about the Taylor murder but of course, tragic things always happen when you least expect them. Emmett was trying out magenta on his toe nails, he was barely paying any attention at all to the television and then the words he'd feared most were spoken by the news anchor.

"Breaking News. The second arrest connected with the Justin Taylor murder was made just a few moments ago at a Mexican Restaurant in central Pittsburgh."

Emmett's head shot up as he watched the anchor carefully relaying the information that was being fed into her ear piece.

"The police are saying they were given a good lead by a witness who led them straight to the hideout. Police are yet to confirm which of the OUTlaws have been arrested, though the suspicions are that this was the hiding place of Brian Kinney. More on that story as it develops."

"Deb!" Emmett yelled immediately, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Deb, did you hear that?"

There was a flurry off footsteps coming down the stairs and the woman stopped at his side. "It's Brian isn't it?" She whispered. "I heard it upstairs on the radio. They've arrested Brian."

"But how the hell did they find him?" Emmett frowned. "It's been months, they can't have anymore leads not unless…." His eyebrows raised as he considered it. It wasn't completely implausible. Michael had been really, really angry when Brian had chosen to leave with Justin. He'd been mad enough to kill … but to turn his friend over to the police? It would certainly save him a few long hard years in prison. Maybe he could have….

"Put that right out of your head," Debbie warned as though reading the man's mind. "I know my son and he couldn't do that to anybody. Least of all Brian."

Emmett nodded quickly. "You're right," he said hurriedly. "Of course, you're right. He's just not like that." But Debbie hadn't seen the way Michael had been acting when they were hiding out at the house. Emmett thought he'd certainly become the kind of person who could do that to his supposed best friend.

He shuddered and turned his attention back to the screen and listened patiently but it wasn't until late that evening that anymore information was given.

::

"Emmett, honey," Debbie called from the table. "Come and eat something."

"It's okay," he replied, sitting on the sofa. "I'm just going to watch the news to see if they've got anything new." He chuckled a little sadly. "You know, I always used to moan at Teddy for watching this all the time. Now look at me, I'm glued to the screen."

"The main news tonight," the man behind the desk began. "The leader of the infamous gang The OUTlaws, Brian Kinney, was found early this afternoon by the Pittsburgh Police Department hiding out above a Mexican Restaurant. He has been charged with the kidnapping and murder of Justin Taylor, the eighteen year old high school student who went missing earlier this year."

"Murder," Emmett whispered. "How the fuck can they be charging him with murder? Justin must have been there!"

"Maybe, he got the kid out before the cops arrived," Vic suggested from the table.

"And not himself?" Emmett was almost in tears. "No. Something doesn't add up. Why aren't they celebrating Justin's return? What the fuck has happened?"

"Well, if you're quiet," Debbie scolded as she dished up the food, "maybe we could find out."

"Police say that Brian Kinney was in possession of numerous weapons, including, eight different types of handgun and a baseball bat, which he used to assault several police officers on his arrest."

"He was sitting on a shitload of guns and he used a baseball bat?" Debbie frowned, putting down the dinner and walking over to stand behind Emmett, so she could watch the screen too. "This doesn't sound right at all."

"And since when does Brian carry a baseball bat anyway," Emmett added. "He hates all forms of physical exercise that don't lead to getting laid."

"Shhh," Debbie hushed him sharply as the anchorman warned, "some people may find these following images disturbing."

Suddenly, footage of Brian being dragged from the restaurant was on the screen. He was wearing a white wife-beater that was covered in bright streaks of blood but it was obvious he wasn't bleeding, so where the hell had all that come from? He was struggling like a wild man, desperately fighting to get back to the restaurant. His hair was plastered to his head, he looked crazy, frenetic and absolutely furious. And he was yelling desperately; "get him to the hospital you sick **BLEEP**. He needs to go to the **BLEEP** hospital!" Then he seemed to notice the camera and was suddenly forcing his way towards it. He looked straight into the lens. "Justin's alive!" He yelled. "But these **BLEEP BLEEP **are gonna let him die. They're trying to cover up their own **BLEEP.** He's alive!" And then Brian just seemed to collapse to the ground. He slumped forward heavily out of the camera view to reveal a policeman with a taser gun behind him.

"Shit!" Emmett whispered, as the image of Brian's limp body being lifted off the tarmac and as good as thrown into the back of the police van was streamed into the room.

The picture returned to the anchors in the studio. "It was thought Brian Kinney was high at the time of his arrest and was hallucinating images of the murdered teenager."

"It's strange what guilt can do to you, Dianne," the male anchor commented, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Absolutely," the female agreed. "Horrible scenes there."

"That's funny," Debbie scorned as the news team moved on to the next story. "He looked stone cold sober to me."

"So what's happened?" Emmett whispered, barely able to speak. "Where's Justin?"

Emmett's cell phone ring tone had always been loud and happy, like him. But when it went off at that moment, it couldn't have been more out of place. The clap-along tune made both him and Deb jump and he apologized as he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the name on the screen; Ted. He frowned. They'd always agreed that if the time came when they had to use the emergency cars there'd be no phone calls and no communication afterwards. He was cautious that this could be a trick but he answered anyway … besides, if the police had managed to catch Brian, it would only be a matter of time before they found him anyway.

"H-hello."

"Em?" Oh thank god. It was Ted's voice.

"Yeah."

"Did you see the news?"

"Yeah, Brian's been arrested. But why are you calling me? You didn't call when Michael was arrested."

"Because when Michael was arrested, that's all it was. But this isn't the same. There's no way the police could have found Brian without some inside help as it were and I looked up that restaurant. It belonged to a guy I used to know called Marvin Young. And there's no way he would ever turn Brian in."

"So what are you saying?" Emmett asked, his throat felt dry and nervous.

"Behind Brian," Ted said slowly, his voice heavy and sad, "when he hits the floor after being shot by the taser, you can see him."

"Who!" Emmett virtually cried, earning such a strange look from Debbie that he had to put the phone on to loudspeaker so she could hear too.

"Michael," Ted almost whispered. "Right as Brian falls down, Michael's there, standing behind him, no handcuffs, no nothing. He led them to Brian."

"I don't believe you," Debbie shouted immediately. "He wouldn't even know where he Brian was hiding."

"Of course he knew. Same way Brian probably knew Michael would go to Buzzy's. They know each other inside out. Anyway, I can't think of any other way that the cops could have found Brian. But that's not the main thing…" Ted continued. He was frantic in his speech, almost unorganized, which was completely unheard of for Ted.

"So what is?" Emmett asked.

"The kid," Ted said solemnly. "I've looked at every single photo, every bit of footage, everything of Brian's arrest and I haven't seen Justin once."

"Well we just assumed he'd escaped earlier. Maybe Brian had…"

"No," Ted cut him off immediately. "Didn't you see Brian when he left that place? He was covered in blood."

"So?" Emmett asked his head was hurting from trying to keep up.

"Whose blood do you think that was Emmett?"

Emmett felt like he'd had the very breath knocked out him. He could barely breathe let alone speak. No! Not Justin! Not after everything that happened. He couldn't actually be … dead. Of course not. He'd probably escaped just like he'd first thought. Maybe even stole the corvette and left. Yeah, that was it. He'd run away. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be… He just couldn't. How would it have happened?

"But how?" Debbie said quietly, beginning to voice all of Emmett's internal worries. "Brian would never have hurt him. And wouldn't the police have…."

"The police want him dead," Ted interrupted bluntly. "They're trying to cover up some kind of scandal involving that guy they found in the dumpster. They're using Justin as a way of making all the controversy and difficult-to-answer questions disappear. Brian was trying to tell us that in the video. He was trying to tell everyone. Justin was still in that room bleeding, if Brian's shirt is anything to go by, but the police had no intention of taking him to the hospital."

"Oh my god," Debbie gasped, crossing herself immediately. Whenever things got really bad, she always found herself reverting back to her days as a good little catholic girl.

"Look, we have to go and find out," Ted said firmly. "Are you at Vic's place?"

"Y-yeah," Emmett stammered.

"Okay, I'm on the road. I'll be there in about five minutes."

"But what about the cops?" Deb asked.

"What about them?" Ted asked. "They don't care about us. They just needed Brian. They're gonna pin absolutely fucking everything on him. He'll confess because it'll be easier and he'll say he was working alone because that what he does."

"For a selfish son of a bitch, he's pretty fucking selfless," Debbie agreed quietly.

"The police aren't even looking for us anymore. But we have to go and find Justin," he paused solemnly. "Even if it's only so we can give him a funeral."

::

78 was the number of cinder blocks in the wall with the window. 6 was the number of bars at the window. 142 was the number of cinder blocks in the wall on the left of the cell. 143 was the number of cinder blocks in the wall on the right of the cell. 56 was the number of cinder blocks in the wall with the door. And that was all there was … that and the dark depths of black depression where he spent most of his time. He felt like shit. He looked like shit. He was barely eating, barely breathing, barely living. He couldn't believe it … after everything. Everything that he and Michael had gone through together had just been destroyed in one simple betrayal. And then there was Justin, the person he'd finally felt safe enough with to tell about his family, his past and now it had been snatched from him in the cruellest way. He groaned. His stomach hurt. His head hurt. His chest hurt. He felt empty and dead inside. He almost wished he was dead at least then the pain would be gone and the numbness could be perpetual.

"Are you coming?" A voice broke through his endless heartache.

"On one of those rare occasions when I'm in a room with a twink, no," Brian deadpanned. He was laying curled on his side facing one of the 142 cinder blocks on the left wall. He allowed his eyes to dart from one blackened mark to another, each one demonstrating what a shithole this place was but he preferred these marks to his own orange get-up or the smell of piss reminding each of the prisoners that they were less than people.

Jay seemed confused for a second or two before concluding, "that's disgusting."

Brian snorted a little humourlessly but he didn't make any attempt to get up.

"Oh come on," Jay groaned. "You never know, someone might write you."

"I've been here one day," Brian pointed out. "And it won't matter. No one will write to me because unlike you, my mom doesn't love me unconditionally," he turned over to look at his younger cellmate with his stupid spiky hair and his earring and numerous tattoos. "In fact, she doesn't love me at all."

"Is it because you're a faggot?" The kid nodded knowingly.

Brian glared at the younger man who was grinning widely back. "Fuck off," Brian snapped, which caused the younger man's grin to get so wide, there was barely room for it on his face.

"I'll bring back any letters for you."

"I won't hold my breath."

"Or do," Jay grinned. "My new cellmate might not be a boring, butt-fucking, piece of shit like you." And he disappeared before Brian had any chance to reply. Brian had found himself wondering if living in this tiny room with Jayden there giving him jip since the second he arrived was what it would have been like to grow up with a younger brother.

Although Jay was always having a go and always niggling and taunting him, it was pretty light-hearted and friendly and, quite frankly, the kid was right, he _was_ being boring but wouldn't anyone be if he'd lost the love of his life? Not that Brian told Jay that that was the reason for his agonizing grief and Jayden just put it down to innate misery.

The kid arrived a little while later with a letter.

"Surely your mom can't have anything else to say," Brian groaned. "I saw the letter you had from her yesterday, it was six pages long"

"She writes everyday," the kid shrugged.

"Day's aren't that interesting in Altoona, are they?"

"More interesting than in here," Jayden pointed out and Brian had to concede the kid had a point. "See," he continued, sitting on the floor and skimming through the first few lines, "Uncle Albert's getting a new prosthetic leg."

"I take it all back. Altoona _is _an interesting place," Brian mocked.

"Well can you name me anything more interesting that's happened to anyone in this wing?"

"No," Brian sighed, wishing he hadn't started this conversation.

"No," Jayden repeated. "But that's partly because _you _don't ever leave the fucking cell."

"I like it here," Brian lied.

"Don't bullshit me," Jayden chuckled. "You're fucking miserable and it ain't even only coz you're in prison. It's more than that. You're _really_, fucking miserable. I mean Christ … who died?"

Brian was silent. He felt sick. He felt like crying. He felt like dunking Jay's head in the filthy fucking toilet, or maybe using it to break through the walls and escape but he didn't do any of these things, he just rolled onto his left and looked at the wall sighing sorrowfully.

"Shit," he heard Jayden breathe from the floor behind him. "Sorry man. I didn't mean to… I'll shut up."

"Good," Brian muttered, though the word was broken and weak. A tear began to roll down his face and he was powerless to stop it and he was even less able to stop the next one. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them tight to him and just stared. He allowed his mind to go blank but soon the thoughts began to creep back in. He hadn't had a chance to say goodbye. He hadn't had a chance to mourn him. Justin had just … gone. And the world had continued to turn and people had continued to live, in fact no one would ever know what had happened to Justin. They may never even find him. He'd just lie, forgotten and abandoned in a horrid attic room above an old Mexican restaurant.

The tears continued to fall. It was over … his world and everything he'd known was completely destroyed. He didn't want to think about it. He never wanted to think about it again. But the worst part was, he'd been put in a place where the only thing to do was think.


	17. Chapter 15

"Are you sure this is it?" Emmett asked, as he stepped out of Ted's car and looked up at the back of the abandoned Mexican Restaurant.

"I'm sure," Ted nodded, locking up the car and turning to the building. The door was boarded up and had the word 'FAGS' scrawled across it. And a very detailed picture of two guys fucking on the wall, with the words 'aids breeding ground', written in the cartoon cum that the bottom was shooting.

"That's a very accurate piece of art for someone claiming to be a homophobe," Emmett pointed out haughtily.

"Hmm. When you're done studying the artwork," Ted muttered, pointing to the rickety fire escape. "Pull this ladder down, I can't reach."

"Huh? Oh. My pleasure," Emmett smiled, jumping up to pull the ladder to a more reasonable level. Then he took his gun out of his inside pocket, "ladies with the best shot first," he smiled and began to climb.

"Honey," Debbie said, eyeing the fire escape nervously, "I think I should just wait down here. This thing doesn't look strong enough for all three of us."

"You'll be fine Deb," Ted reassured her. "The weight of us three divided by the …"

"Okay, okay," Deb cut off the intelligent, but boring, man before he could get too far into his mathematical explanations. "I'll come too. Just, well, I'm not coming in if he's … still there." She whispered.

Ted and Emmett looked at each other. If they were honest with themselves, that's exactly what they were expecting to find. Justin's corpse on the floor after somehow bleeding to death but they were determined not to think about that until they knew for definite.

"Come on," Emmett said decidedly. "Let's get going."

The climb was quick and easy and they weren't going to draw any attention to themselves on this dark evening. Emmett tried to peer through the window. He pressed his forehead to the glass and tried to shade his view from the glare of the street lamp so he could see inside but the space was so dark and gloomy, he couldn't make anything out.

"Anyone got a flashlight?"

"Hang on honey," Debbie said, rummaging through her handbag and pulling out a tiny light. "Here."

"Thanks," Emmett smiled weakly, taking the flashlight from her hand and passing it to Ted. "You shoot with the flashlight, I'll shoot with the bullets," Emmett said quietly.

Ted just nodded. Emmett was shaking almost violently. He'd really cared about the kid and Ted knew that if they saw the body when the light flicked on, Emmett would probably fall apart. They both took a deep breath and Ted counted down from three.

3... Emmett cocked the gun.

2... Debbie turned away.

1... Ted flicked on the light and …

Nothing.

Ted moved the beam of light around the room, peering into every corner and crevice but no one was there; no police, no other gangs, no squatters but most importantly no Justin. Emmett couldn't decide whether that was better or worse. He didn't want to see the kid's body but not knowing where he was at all … he shuddered.

"He's not there," he whispered aloud. Debbie opened her eyes and peered through the glass.

"You think your friends who own the restaurant moved him Teddy?" Deb asked.

The man just shook his head solemnly. "They weren't mentioned on the news. My bet is they hadn't even come into work. I mean, it was a Sunday. Then they saw the commotion on the TV and just left. There's no way in hell they'd come back here after all that. It would be suicide."

"Suicide?" Debbie repeated. "Why are we here then?"

"Because the police have gone. And anyway what the cops would do to us for finding us here is minimal compared to what Brian would do to us if he thought we hadn't even tried to find Justin."

Debbie just nodded silently and looked around the room, straining her eyes in the murky light. "So," she said eventually, "where is he?"

Ted shrugged. He had an idea, he guessed that the police had probably 'disposed' of the body somewhere no one would find it; buried in a forest, thrown in a river, anywhere untraceable. But he wasn't going to share that theory with the other two; they didn't need to hear it. Not yet.

Emmett just stared around the empty room. It was bleak and cold and horrible and made a cold shiver run down his back as he wondered what the hell had gone on in there but he knew he had to get a better look.

"Help me with this," he urged, tugging uselessly at the window. It took all three of them to pry the old thing open and when there was enough room, Emmett was clambering through. He looked around the room slowly as Ted, who'd practically fallen through the window after him, shone the flashlight around.

There was a bed that was half made, sketch after sketch of various different items around the attic, a duffle bag full of Justin's clothes and a large old-fashioned medical-looking bag full of Brian's stuff. There was a bag of forgotten Mexican food, stuff thrown everywhere and there was even a large brown suitcase that didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the room at all, but whatever it was there for and whatever had been going on here … this place was definitely abandoned now. Debbie spotted a beautifully bound notebook and pen with J. Taylor emblazed on it, she picked it up and put it in her handbag. In her mind, she intended to give that back to the kid when she next saw him … if she ever saw him.

"It's hard to imagine Brian Kinney slumming it in here," Debbie whistled to herself as she lifted one of Justin's sweatshirts that hung over the back of a chair. "Prison might actually be a step up."

"Don't be facetious, Deb," Ted snapped. He was furious at the situation, furious that two of his best friends had been arrested and thrown behind bars, furious that one of those 'friends' seemed to have been an informant for the police as to the other's whereabouts. But he was also confused and terrified. He'd been so very certain that Justin's body would be here. He'd hoped so hard that the police would just leave it there until the case went away. He wanted to give the kid a proper send off. He figured Justin deserved that but the cops had just disposed of the evidence in some remote location, a high-end twist on throwing a body in a dumpster. Fuck.

"Oh my god," a gasp from Debbie drew both Ted and Emmett's attention. She'd stooped to pick up a pile of clothes that had been seemingly dumped on the floor near the door and as she'd lifted them away, she'd managed to reveal a large, deep red stain on the boards of plywood below. "Is it … blood?" she asked quietly.

Ted just nodded silently. The stain was big. Ted didn't think there'd be any way Justin could have got up and walked away from whatever injury had caused it. Besides, the blood would have left a trail to either the door or the window as he'd moved. He'd have needed help but no one had known he was here except the police. Shit. It really was all over for him.

"Poor kid," he whispered, his voice sounded choked and full of unshed tears.

Emmett's neck snapped up to look at him. "Wait, you think … God, no," Emmett sobbed suddenly, almost collapsing onto Ted's shoulder and weeping painfully. "He was so young. It's not fair. It's not fair!"

Ted wrapped his arm around his friend's waist and patted him carefully and a little awkwardly on the back. Debbie squeezed Emmett's shoulder comfortingly.

"It's okay, honey," she soothed. "Let it out."

And Emmett did. He was completely inconsolable and every sob wracked his body violently. Ted stood firm, his lips pressed tightly together. He wasn't the emotional type but even he could feel a tear at the corner of his eye. He wiped it away discretely as Deb said,

"why don't we give him a bit of a send off? I saw some candles a second ago, Teddy shine your flashlight this way."

Ted lit her way as she wandered over and picked up two discarded candle sticks. She handed one to Emmett and kept one for herself, lighting them both with a lighter from her pocket.

"Go on Teddy," she encouraged. "Say a few words."

"Yeah, go on Teddy," Emmett sniffed, drying his eyes a little as the glow of the candle set the mood around the tiny room.

"Oh, I wouldn't know what…"

"Just," Emmett interrupted, "speak from the heart. Come on, the boy deserves a send off."

"Right," Ted nodded dutifully. "Of course. You're right." He thought for a second and then began in a way he hoped was befitting a memorial for the late Justin Taylor. "He was a good kid … no, a man. He may have been tender in years but he was smart, talented and kind. I didn't know him long but in the time that I knew him, he'd worked his way into our family and into our hearts. He will be sorely, sorely missed by all of us. May you rest in p…."

"Little soon for that isn't it?" A gruff man's voice interrupted them. They all looked up and Emmett jumped into action, dropping his candle so that he could reach for his gun.

"Woah," the man shouted, jumping forward and stamping out the flame immediately. "You could have burnt the place down then, lad." And then eyeing the gun, he put his hands immediately in the air and said with a bit of smile, "don't shoot."

The man was probably in his early 50's and balding. He had a bit of a beer belly and was wearing brown shoes with a black belt, classic breeder wear, but that wasn't the worst thing about him. The worst thing was that he didn't seem in the slightest bit worried about having a gun pointed at him.

"Who are you?" Deb demanded, her hand hovering over her handbag ready to pull out her gun and shoot at any second.

"Horvath," the man said. "Carl Horvath. I'm from the Pittsburgh State Police."

"Shit!" Emmett hissed, cocking the gun and holding it steadily at the cop's head. "You alone?"

"Just me," Horvath confirmed and for some reason they all decided they believed him but what the hell was a member of the PSP doing in this attic room long after the Pittsburgh PD had abandoned it. Things were just getting stranger by the second and even Ted, who prided himself on understanding most things, had absolutely no idea what was going on but luckily, this man didn't seem to know them either. Maybe they could just say that Emmett's weapon was legal and they could get out of here before the guy arrested them but before Ted could put his somewhat sketchy plan into action the cop said, "you're friends of Kinney's."

It wasn't a question so much as a statement and none of them knew how to react. He didn't seem angry, he didn't actually even seem bothered, but was just like someone stating a fact about the weather or the time.

"Kinney?" Emmett laughed, too hard and too loud. "No. No! We're just here because we're er…," he paused for what felt like forever until he came up with, "we're concerned about the welfare of Justin Taylor."

Horvath smirked at the tall man in front of him. He was without doubt the worst liar he'd ever encountered but what did it matter. These weren't the reason he was here.

"Look guys," he said casually, kneeling next to the red stain and fingering it lightly as though hoping the mere touch of it would throw up a clue. "I haven't got time to be messing around with petty crooks like you or even Kinney. Because that's all you are to me. You're not drug lords, you're not dangerous and you're certainly not a threat to the public. You're not even registering on my radar. I'd let the Pittsburgh PD deal with you, except they haven't been dealing with you. They've been making you scapegoats. You're only famous because you got mixed up in a corrupt police department at the worst time."

"You think it's corrupt?" Ted asked immediately.

"I _know _it's corrupt," Horvath corrected, getting to his feet again. "And it's my job to find out just how corrupt they are. I'm investigating the murder of a young man name of Jason Kemp. You might not have heard of him."

"We've heard of him," Ted said quickly.

"That's a surprise," Horvath said, "because Stockwell made the whole thing just … go away. He mixed it up with your young Justin" he looked to the dark stain on the floor. "He made the public believe what he wanted them to believe and he made Kinney the fall guy."

"So," Deb said once the shock of Horvath's words had settled in, "were you the one that moved Justin's body?"

Horvath nodded slowly but he didn't say anything more.

"And where did you dump him?" Emmett asked, trying desperately to hide the tearful wobble in his voice.

"I didn't _dump him _anywhere," Horvath promised slowly. "I had him taken to a hospital not far from here as soon as the Pittsburgh Police had left and the news crews had become bored. Doctors there think he took a heavy object to the head. Probably," he looked to the floor near the door and picked up a long thin object, "this baseball bat. He barely made it through last night but he did. Now he's sitting in the hospital asking for Kinney over and over. I've asked the doctors not to let him watch the news because I need him to make a statement about the night Kinney was arrested but at the moment he can't remember a thing. He doesn't know who hit him, he doesn't know how he ended up in hospital, he doesn't even know that Kinney was arrested, but I can't tell him because I can't tamper with a witness."

"He's not just a witness," Emmett cried. "He's a human being."

"Sure," Horvath agreed, "to you. But to me, he's just a way of getting me what I need. The mere fact that he is alive is condemning evidence but if he were actually hit by a cop, well…." He looked up at the three people ahead of him. "All I'm asking is that if you go to visit him, don't say anything you may know about that night."

"Um, o-of course we won't," Ted stammered a little. Ted felt sick. Justin had taken a baseball bat to the head. No cop on earth would be that stupid if they wanted to rub someone out. They'd shoot him or tranquilize him. They wouldn't leave anything to chance. Brian wouldn't have hit Justin and the only other person who'd been in the room that night was … he didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about it. Not yet.

"Good." Horvath gave them a small, almost friendly smile. "In that case, you're free to go."

They weren't really sure what to do, except practically run out of the window and down the fire escape. Debbie, like the true super-mom that she is, made a dash for Justin's bag first. She knew he'd need clothes while he was in hospital and as she was there she picked up Brian's bag as well before chasing Ted and Emmett down the ladder. Emmett kept his gun ready the entire time, just in case Horvath had been lying to them, but the officer didn't seem to be making any effort to catch up with them and it seemed he'd been telling the truth when he'd told them he was alone.

Ted unlocked the vehicle and they piled in. Debbie threw the bags into the back seat with Emmett. As soon as the car engine roared into life, the headlights came on and lit up something in front of them that they'd missed on the way in.

"Brian's car," Emmett whispered as they all stared at it. "God," he whistled. "Seeing it there…" then he stopped as a thought occurred to all of them. "Do you think he knows that Justin's…?"

Debbie just shrugged but Ted shook his head. "I don't think he believes Justin would have got out of that situation. I didn't think Justin would have got out of it."

They were silent for a second. Emmett felt queasy. Everything just seemed so desperate right now. He felt so bad for Justin and for Brian. Both locked away, neither sure what had happened to the other one.

"I'm going to get it," Emmett decided suddenly, turning to rummage through first Brian's bag, then Justin's in search of the keys. He found them, stuffed safely in a side pocket of Justin's duffle bag and allowed himself to wonder for a second why Justin had them but he didn't think about it too long. He just jumped out of the car and told them he'd meet them back at home.

After all, Emmett thought as he unlocked the door, Brian would never forgive them if they allowed the car to be impounded.

::

"Seriously dude, cheer up," moaned Jayden, poking Brian with the very dip of his shoe. "It's been three weeks and you've barely eaten."

"Why the fuck do you even care?" Brian groaned, finally whipping out a hand to catch Jayden's ankle and lifting it higher and higher so Jayden was hopping about just to keep his balance.

"Let my leg go, fudge-packer," Jayden protested. "Are you just trying to get a better look at my cock?"

"I've seen your cock," Brian shrugged. "It's nothing to be proud of."

"Asshole," Jay smirked, pushing the older man's legs over and sitting on the end of the lower bunk. "I have a question…"

"Go on," Brian muttered, because if he hadn't Jayden would have been a million times more annoying until he had conceded defeat and let him ask the question, which would, undoubtedly, be inane.

"Is it actually, physically possible for you to smile?"

"I smile all the time," Brian replied into his thin as paper pillow.

"I've never seen it."

"Exactly."

Jay just shook his head and smiled. He couldn't help it. Despite all of Brian's obvious and considerable flaws, Jay found he actually liked the man. He wasn't scary or intimidating, he looked after himself and he was funny at times. He was easily the best cellmate Jay had had in the nine long months he'd been in the cell and that's why he found it so hard to believe what he'd seen on the news about him. He didn't seem like a murderer. No way. He didn't even seem like the kidnapping kind. Maybe one of those, keep your hands clean but reap the benefits drug lords.

"So," Jay drawled, "did you really kill that boy you kidnapped?"

"Fuck off," Brian said immediately, kicking Jay off his bed, so the kid landed with a thump on the floor. This wasn't the first time Jay had asked this question but Brian was standing resolutely by his answer.

"Come on, Bri," Jay whined, rubbing his ass as he got to his feet. "What was that for? We're all friends here."

"Ha," the older man scoffed. "Friends. Fat lot of fucking good they are to you."

"God," Jay groaned. "I actually can't take your negativity for another second without tying this sweater around my neck and hanging myself from the bars on the window."

"Well, if you need a hand," Brian offered politely.

"Fucker," Jay chuckled. "I'm gonna check the post."

"Tell your mommy I said hi. And ask Uncle Albert about his prosthetic leg, I've been worrying about that."

"Piss off!" he smirked. "I'll bring you back any letters that are yours."

"I won't hold my breath."

"You never do."

* * *

"I really don't think our visits are doing him any good," groaned Emmett as they walked along the now very familiar white wash corridors towards Justin's hospital room.

"Nonsense," Deb dismissed. "He enjoys speaking to us. Anyway, it's not right for a kid to be alone all of the time."

"But all he does is ask for Brian," Emmett said. "I hate not being able to tell him where he is."

"You heard that cop," Ted warned his friend sternly. "Who knows what he'll do to us if he finds out we abused his trust?"

"Which brings me to concern number two," Emmett agreed. "Why is that man letting us stroll around when he knows who we are?"

"Because we're more use to him as bate?" Ted suggested.

"Bate?" Emmett gulped.

"For Stockwell," Ted nodded. "We're just pawns in a much bigger game of chess."

"What's porn got to do with chess?"

"Nothing," Ted sighed. Sometimes his friend was truly thick. "Actually," he amended suddenly. "That's not true. There is chess porn."

"You're got to be kidding me."

"No. It's called Checkmate and it's about how a bishop takes a queen."

Emmett looked at his older friend with a face of pure disdain.

"It's hot," Ted insisted.

"Mm-hmm," the taller man hummed sarcastically.

"It is!"

"I never said it wasn't!"

"But…"

"Will you two knock it off!" Debbie snapped as she pointed to the door nearby. "This is Sunshine's room."

She looked to the door with sadness in her heart. They'd come here every day since they'd found out he was here and he was still yet to remember anything about the night that had landed him here. It was a gloomy room, full of frustration and anger. The door to Justin's room was just like all the others. It was painted with cheap off-white and the paint clumped in places especially around the door handle and the window. It was horrible but it was what you got when the police were having to pay for it. At least they hadn't handcuffed the kid to the bed.

She knocked and pushed the door open a few inches.

"Brian?" She heard Justin's hopeful voice perk up. He did it every day and his unfailing faith in Brian had her staggered.

"Sorry Sunshine," she apologized sincerely as she poked her head through the gap. "It's just us."

"Oh." He looked disappointed but he quickly hid it. "Come on in."

She smiled and opened the door fully. Emmett flounced in first and gave Justin a quick peck to the cheek. "How are you baby?"

"Still haven't remembered anything," he moaned. "Hi Ted."

The older man just nodded in response.

"Has that cop been around?" Deb asked, rearranging the flowers in the blue vase by his bed. She'd only bought them yesterday but already they looked tired and old, just like everything else in this cell-like hospital room.

"Carl? Yeah. He came by this morning but he's getting pissed that I can't remember. I don't get it," he frowned. "What's so important about that night? I told him it wouldn't be Brian but he said that at the moment Brian's the only suspect but he didn't even have a baseball bat … and why would he…? It just doesn't…." His hands flew to his temple suddenly as a throbbing pain began to pulsate in his skull. "Shit!" He yelled. "I wish I could remember!"

"Don't you worry about it, sweetie," Emmett said, putting his arm around the kid and kissing his head through the hair. "Don't give yourself a headache."

"It's not just the headaches," Justin sighed, allowing his head to fall onto Emmett's shoulder. "The doctor told me today that I'll probably never draw again. He says the damage to my cerebral motor strip is more severe than they first thought. I can barely hold a fucking pencil."

"Sunshine," Debbie said soothingly, stroking her hand gently through his hair. "Maybe you should count your blessings. A month ago, we thought you were dead but now look at you … good as new."

"Better," Emmett agreed. "Nothing but a little scar," he smiled.

"And a permanently gimp hand and the knowledge that someone hates me so much they actually bashed my skull in and I have no idea where Brian is. Hasn't anyone got any good news?"

The three older people looked at each other anxiously. As the month had stretched on it had become more and more difficult to keep Justin optimistic but they didn't give up. They turned up every day and told him stories about their day, which prompted Debbie to say happily,

"Michael has met someone."

"He has?" Justin asked. "That was quick, wasn't it?"

"Well, he was released without charge the day after the, er, incident." She fingered the kids scar gently as though punctuating her point.

"I wonder how he swung that," Ted muttered under his breath. He was still almost certain that Michael was the reason Brian had been found and he voiced his opinion as often as possible.

"They realized he hadn't done anything wrong," Deb replied firmly. "Anyway," she added happily. "This guy is a professor at Carnegie Mellon."

"Cool," Justin sighed flatly but Debbie continued undeterred.

"Yeah. He teaches gay studies and he's also a best-selling author."

"He's written one book, Deb," Ted corrected.

"Will you stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Putting everything about Michael down. We don't know what happened in that goddamn attic, no one does."

Justin frowned. "What's Michael got to do with the attic?"

"Nothing," Debbie said quickly. "Ted's just making things up and being dramatic."

Being dramatic and making things up? That sure didn't sound like Ted. He was usually so practical, calm and down to earth. He was exactly the kind of man you'd turn to in a crisis to remain level-headed. Something was weird. Justin knew that. In fact everything was weird. He knew something huge had happened on that night in the attic. It was clear everyone, Deb, Ted and Horvath, all had their own opinions on what had occurred but the truth was locked somewhere in his head, probably never to be returned.

He wished everyone would leave him alone. He wanted them to stop fussing over him. He wanted them to stop pressuring him to remember. He wanted them to tell him where Brian was and what had happened for him to wind up here. But every question he asked only ever gave him more questions and no answers and he was sick of it. Totally sick of it.

"You know," he said sharply, "I'm feeling kind of tired. Do you think maybe I could be alone for a while?"

"Oh, of course honey," Debbie nodded. "We're sorry. You get some rest and we'll see you tomorrow."

Justin just nodded and waited for them to leave before flipping onto his front and trying to get some sleep.

It didn't help that this bed was too narrow to move in and was too hard and the pillow was too thin and the room was too cold. He hadn't had a proper night's sleep since he'd got there and now everything was beginning to catch up with him.

::

Debbie, Emmett and Ted went back the next day as promised. They went the day after that too and the day after that and everyday for two weeks, and it was on the Friday of Justin's sixth week in hospital that a nurse stopped them and informed them that Justin would be able to leave.

"Are you his mother?" She asked Debbie.

"No," Deb shook her head sadly. "His mother doesn't know he's here. We're just friends."

The nurse frowned. She was clearly confused. These were the three people that had been visiting her patient religiously for a month and a half and now she found out that they weren't related.

"Oh," she said, looking at her clipboard carefully and chewing the end of her pen. She tried to remain professional as she flicked quickly through the pages of information she had on the young man. There were results of spinal x-rays, MRI scans and CT scans, carefully documented notes of his day-to-day progress. Then she read the name on the sheet properly and remembered everything; Justin Taylor. The man the police had a particular interest in. The man who had to be kept away from all other patients in case they leaked something to the media that he was alive.

"Sorry," she said coldly, looking up at the three people ahead of them, recognizing Emmett now from the fuss when Justin was first kidnapped. "I'm afraid Mr. Taylor won't actually be going anywhere until the police have approved it."

"Of course," Debbie nodded. "We understand."

It was another forty-eight hours before the legal jargon and mumbo jumbo was cleared up and Horvath signed a few papers announcing that Justin was allowed to leave the hospital to reside in the care of Ms. Debbie Novotny. Horvath had decided to go back to Debbie's to finish the paperwork but it soon became apparent he'd only suggested that because he had a little present for Justin.

"Of course, I need your address," he said.

"Of course," she agreed.

"And you," he turned his attention to Justin, "need this." He slapped a thick mechanical bracelet around the kid's ankle.

"What the fuck is this?" He asked as the cold metal pinched tightly at his skin.

"Just a sort of homing device," Horvath explained, producing a black box to go with the bracelet and setting it up on the table of ornaments in the corner of the sitting area near the front door. "It just means you can't leave Deb's house."

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" He asked.

"He hasn't done anything wrong," Emmett agreed "and now you're putting him under house arrest."

"If he really hadn't done anything wrong, he wouldn't be caught up in all this," Horvath pointed out, tapping some kind of code into the box. "But this isn't about that; I just can't have you walking all over town when you're supposed to be dead." Justin was silent after that.

He was silent as Deb showed him around his room. She didn't have to tell him it was Brian's, he could already tell. It screamed of his minimalist décor, just a bed and a table and chair; all white, all designer. It had a picture of James Dean and one of David Bowie on the wall in frames. And there was this feel about the place that was just so Brian, he could have sworn the man was there. But, of course, he wasn't there and from all the information he'd been able to get out of the people around him, he wasn't anywhere.

He'd lied and told Deb he was tired and could do with a lie down almost straight away. He didn't need to lie down, it was virtually all he'd been doing for the last six weeks, that and trying to throw a fucking tennis ball or pick up some paper clips off a desk or even write his goddamn name on piece of paper. So far, he'd only managed to do some limited writing. He could write about three lines before his hand reverted to its favourite claw-like position.

He was sick of feeling helpless. He was sick of this blank space in his memory where something clearly very significant had occurred. He was sick of all of it but most of all he was sick of Emmett and Debbie's coddling. If they used one more cutesy little nickname for him, he was going to scream. Or he might just scream anyway and get it over with; maybe he could smash a few things in the process. At least then they might not think he was so useless that he couldn't lie down without being checked up on. Eventually, he just feigned sleep, which was pretty difficult with a bear trap cutting into your leg, but it worked because they stopped bothering him and let him be.

Justin led in the dark room, curled onto his side wishing he knew where Brian was and wishing he could feel him in his arms just one more time. Across the city, the man of Justin's thoughts was curled up mirroring his position perfectly and he wished he could be with Justin just one last time but that was impossible.

Justin was dead and Brian had disappeared and neither knew what had really happened.

* * *

**He lives! Thanks for reading this far! LOTS more to comee!  
xx**


	18. Chapter 16

"Do you think he's okay?" Emmett asked, coming down the stairs daintily after his little check up on their patient. "He's still pretending to be asleep."

"He's probably just a little shaken up," Deb dismissed. "I mean, getting let out of hospital for the first time in forever is a bit of an ordeal and then that cop slapped a fucking tagging bracelet on him like a fucking criminal. And he's probably hungry. Did you see the shit they fed him in that place? It was worse than prison food. You wait, once he's had a big healthy meal with all the family, he'll be much happier."

"All the family?" Ted repeated, looking up from his laptop for just a moment. "As in Michael?"

"Yes, as in Michael, my son. You got a fucking problem with that?"

"No," Ted said, turning back to his screen before muttering, "but Justin might."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Deb demanded her hands on her hips angrily as she stared at the smartest of her lost boys.

"Well, I'm not sure if I'd been bashed in the head by someone I'd want to sit across from them at the dinner table and exchange pleasantries about the current affairs."

"Teddy," Emmett gasped in shock. He'd never heard his friend be quite so blunt before.

"You don't know that that's what happened," Deb hissed through her teeth. "No one knows. Whatever happened to innocent until proving guilty?"

"It died with the Catholics and their original sin," Ted shot back. "And it also died the day Stockwell became Chief of Police. We have no idea how many men and women he's falsely convicted to save his own ass."

"I'm not worried about any of them," Deb seethed. "I just don't like the way you're talking about Michael without any proof. Now," she said, straightening her wig and flattening out her clothes, "I don't want to hear another word about it. This is going to be a happy occasion," she indicated the mountains of food she'd been preparing. "We're going to celebrate Justin leaving hospital and Michael's bringing home his new boyfriend."

"New boyfriend?" Ted asked in a way that suggested he really couldn't care less. Then, under his breath he muttered, "I wonder if he's in to baseball."

Emmett found himself becoming eternally grateful that Debbie had chosen that moment to start the garbage disposal and hadn't heard the comment because he felt sure that otherwise, Ted would be following the discarded food down the plughole.

Emmett decided maybe it would be worth just having a little word of warning with Ted before the guests of honour arrived, so he sat on the sofa and peered over his shoulder, a sure way to get some kind of reaction.

"What are you doing?" Ted asked, as he flicked from one web page of infinite boring writing to another.

"I was going to ask you the same question," Emmett smiled, as he tried to pick out just one word that would make him understand what Ted was searching for. Seeing the confused look on his friend's face, Ted decided to explain,

"It's a news story about Brian from today. It seems they've set the court date and released the charges to the press. I'm just checking details with every news crew that covered the story from Pittsburgh's OUT to big national stuff."

"Why?"

"Because each story is different and only the bits that appear consistently in each story is the truth."

Emmett just scrunched up his face, partly in boredom and partly in confusion. "So what 'truth' have you learnt Dick Tracy?" Emmett asked.

"Well, the court date is definitely two months from now. And the charges include numerous counts of theft, assaulting a police officer, kidnapping and," he looked at Emmett solemnly, "murder."

"They're still slapping Justin's murder on him?"

"Seems that way," Ted nodded glumly.

Emmett just looked at his friend and gulped. He missed the times when he used to use a hair pin to break into a house and it would all be over in one night. He missed the nights they'd go out to Babylon and just act like normal fags for a few hours. He missed his life before this, before Justin. He didn't blame the kid; it was just that he had been the start of a series of unbelievable and unfortunate events that had led them to be twisted up in murders and corruptions.

For the first time since he'd turned to this life, he didn't feel safe. Brian was behind bars after Michael had seemingly betrayed him. He felt like he didn't know who to trust, who was on what side. He wasn't even sure if he was on the bad side anymore. He was beginning to feel like his black and white view of the world was turning grey and it was becoming more and more difficult to work out who was safe, who was out to get him.

"It's okay, Em," Ted reassured him, as though he could read his friend's thoughts, or perhaps just his expression. "It'll work out."

"Yeah," Emmett nodded, giving his friend a watery smile. "You're right. Of course you're right."

::

Debbie was just finishing laying the table when the doorbell alerted them to the arrival of their guests.

"Emmett, honey," she called, as she tied tiny rainbow ribbons around the cutlery, "can you get that?"

"Er, sure Deb," he replied, pushing himself up off the sofa, where Ted had been letting him watch 'Some Like it Hot' from Deb's Gay Film Collection to cheer him up a little; it hadn't really been working.

He walked over to the door, took a deep breath and put on his best hostess face. When he was satisfied with his mask he unlocked the door and yanked it open.

"Michael," he grinned at the shorter man, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. "What a wonderful surprise, you're mom's been telling us how well you've been doing since you got out. Still phoning three times a day, I see, even if you never drop in." He winked at him to hide the anger he felt that Michael hadn't come to see them once since he'd been let out of prison six weeks ago. "And this must be…" Emmett turned his attention to the muscle-bound man stood at his friend's side, "my, my," he smiled, fluttering his eyelashes flirtily, "this must be the famous professor. I've heard all about you." And then as an explanation, he added, "Michael tells Debbie who tells me about you … all the time." Michael blushed embarrassedly and Emmett just smiled. Well, the man could squirm, it was the very least he deserved.

"Ben Bruckner," the professor held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Well, aren't you just every girl's dream," Emmett chuckled a little. "I'm Emmett," he explained, taking the man's hand and holding it just a little too long for Michael's comfort.

"Okay," Michael frowned, pushing his way through the greeting. "That's enough. Put your eyes back in your head Em, he's mine."

"You don't want to mess with what's Michael's," Ted grumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear, "you never know what he'll do."

Emmett glared at his bitter friend but Michael just looked confused. Emmett thought he looked quite sweet really, innocent and he suddenly realized there was no way Michael could have done the things Ted was suggesting. He was too nice. He doubted that Michael would even be able to turn Brian in. Maybe the police had blackmailed him, or taken him along to the arrest to get to Brian but surely Michael, his good friend Mikey, wouldn't have turned Brian in and certainly wouldn't have hurt Justin.

"Well, come on in," he said, waving Ben in quickly and watching him walk to the kitchen only to be immediately cornered by Debbie. She was like a spider approaching a fly, a big fly, with muscles and perfect arms and body and…

"Will you stop drooling?" Michael laughed in Emmett's ear.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've seen a gorgeous gay man?"

"Present company excluded, of course," Ted scowled, refusing to get up off the couch and greet Michael.

"Of course," Emmett said brightly but Ted knew it was a lie and scowled further.

"How long has it been since you've seen a good looking gay man, Em?" Michael asked, regaining the taller man's attention.

"Too long. Way too long." Emmett sighed. "And then in you come with this beautiful lump of man meat and tell me I'm not even aloud to look."

"Fine," Michael conceded light-heartedly, "you can look but no touching. I really wanna make things work with this guy."

Emmett looked at his friend's dreamy expression and lowered his voice to barely a whisper.

"Erm, honey. Does he know about your, er, alternative lifestyle?"

"I told him," Michael said firmly. "First thing I said. Well after, 'wow you're hot'."

"And he didn't…" Emmett trailed off not wanting to upset his friend.

"Care?" Michael finished. "He cared a little, I think," he answered honestly, "but he said that the past is in the past and that we have to live in the now. I told him I've given up the lifestyle, which I have, one short stint in prison is enough for me, and he said that he was willing to give me a chance."

"Wow," Emmett whistled, gazing in the direction of the hunky professor. "He really is perfect."

"I know," Michael beamed, then looking over to where his mother was still cornering Ben he said, "I actually better go save him before my mom scares him too much."

Emmett watched as Michael practically skipped across the room towards Mr. Perfect and sighed heavily. It was so unfair. Some guys just had all the luck. He slumped miserably onto the sofa next to Ted, who was still purposely ignoring everything around him in favour of following Brian's story on the internet.

"Ben's hot, isn't he?" Emmett said, nudging the older man a little with his elbow trying to get some kind of conversation out of him.

"Mm-hmm, hot," Ted agreed flatly, not looking up from the screen.

"And smart," Emmett added, refusing to be fobbed off.

"College professors usually are," Ted replied in exactly the same tone. "But I know I sure as hell wouldn't want to go to bed with a backstabber with a fetish for baseball."

Emmett sighed heavily. "Teddy, I think you've gone a bit crazy with this. There's no way Michael would do that. Look at him," he grabbed Ted's head and forced him to watch as Michael laughed at something his mother had said, while patting Ben on the chest like a proud housewife. "Does that look like a bat wielding psychopath to you?"

"Yes," Ted answered bluntly. "And let go of my head," he groaned, slapping Emmett's hands away.

Emmett was quiet for a moment and the only thing that broke the silence between them was the jovial laughter from the kitchen and the tip-tapping of the laptop keys as Ted typed frantically.

"Teddy," Emmett said eventually, his voice very low and very serious. "Do you _really_ think Michael did what you say he did?"

Ted stopped typing immediately, his fingers falling limp against the keyboard. He looked up at his friend's fearful eyes and sighed heavily. "I don't know," he said honestly. "All the clues point to Michael but I guess it could have been the police. I mean, I know they wanted him dead and who's to say they wouldn't have taken the action into their own hands but," he paused, ran his face through his thin hair and said quietly. "I think the police would have made sure he was dead. They wouldn't have left it to chance."

"But Horvath said if he hadn't got Justin to hospital when he did that he'd have died. Maybe the police thought they'd done enough."

"I don't know," Ted shrugged a little. "There's only two people who know for sure what happened and one of them is in prison and the other can't remember."

Emmett looked to the stairs thinking of Justin, lying in the bedroom that used to be Brian's pretending to be asleep just so he could avoid them for a few hours. "Do you think he'll ever remember?"

"Maybe. Memory's a complicated thing but you never lose a memory completely. It's always in your brain, you just need to find some kind of trigger to remember it, like something from the event."

Emmett thought for a second and then said, "like waving a baseball bat in front of his face?"

"Exactly." Then Ted sat up a little and said, "actually, that probably would work."

"Don't you dare!"

Ted couldn't help smile a little at that. "I won't but maybe in two months time, when Brian's being sent down for murder. I might give it a go."

Emmett was just about to reply when Debbie's voice cut through every conversation.

"Dinner is served," she beamed. "Emmett, honey, could you run up and bring Sunshine downstairs? I'm sure he's feeling hungry by now."

"Sunshine?" Michael questioned immediately, looking more than a little concerned as the queen disappeared up the staircase. "He's here?"

"Of course he's here," Debbie chuckled happily, pulling out a seat next to Ben and pushing her son into it. "He's family."

"Er, who's Sunshine?" Ben asked.

"It's what I call Justin," Debbie explained.

"Justin?" Ben frowned. He was clearly completely confused by now. "The kid you guys kidnapped?"

"Not us," Michael clarified quickly, clinging to Ben's hand almost desperately as he willed the man to believe him. "Brian. That's why they let me go, because Brian told them it was just him. I'm innocent."

"But I thought he was found in a dumpster," Ben said slowly. The look on his face was similar to that of a man trying to piece bits of all different jigsaws together in order to create a picture.

"That wasn't him," Deb said, putting a plate of food in front of Ben and then Michael. "It's all very complicated. We'll explain it when Sunshine comes down."

"You know," Ben said suddenly. "There was a kid in one of my classes, Hunter, he used to say that Justin wasn't the one in the dumpster too. He'd swear blind it was some kid he used to know but you told me it was Justin," Ben said pointedly to Michael. "You said that that Brian Kinney guy had killed him."

"I thought he was dead," Michael insisted truthfully.

"Why the hell would you think that?" Ted asked suddenly from his place on the couch. He closed the lid of his computer and studied the squirming figure of Michael carefully. "You knew he wasn't the boy the police found in the dumpster, so what would make you think that he was dead?"

"I, er," Michael stammered. "Erm, er … just that, when they found Brian, the cops didn't mention Justin."

"So you assumed he'd died?"

"That or ran away I guess," Michael nodded, squirming under this interrogation.

"Wait, so Justin Taylor really wasn't the boy in the dumpster," Ben asked. He was totally confused now, feeling like a million steps behind with most of the track missing.

"Of course I wasn't in the dumpster," Justin voice rang through the conversation. "I'm right here, aren't I?"

Everyone turned to look at him. He looked a little less pale than he had before but he still had dark rings under his eyes and seemed a little worse for wear. Emmett had a hand on his shoulder for support but he was smiling at them all. Or at least he was smiling, until his eyes fell on Michael. And then something happened.

Emmett felt the kid go weak and wobbly under his hand. He almost didn't reach out to catch him in time but he just managed to pull him into a hug before Justin collapsed completely to the floor. Emmett could feel him shaking furiously and twitching a little bit in his arms as he struggled to keep him upright.

Justin felt like his head was going to explode as image after faded image began to get brighter and brighter. He heard a door slam open and remembered seeing Michael standing at the door, a bat in his hand and then Brian had whispered that … shit. Brian had told him he loved him and then….

"YOU!" he yelled, pushing Emmett away roughly and turning to confront Michael. "It was you! You were the one who bashed me and all because… Shit. Brian said that he…." Justin blinked as tears began to flood his eyes. He didn't know what to do. He felt like a flood gate had been opened and now he was just trying to say as many things as he could remember at once. "You tried to kill him," he hissed furiously. "You took the cops right to him. You were so fucking proud." He was spitting each word like poison and everyone was stunned into silence, watching him as he stood, red faced and panting in the middle of the room pointing furiously at Michael. "_Come on kid_," he quoted Michael's speech, tears streaming down his face as he remembered the way Michael had stood in that doorway to the attic. He remembered how Brian had stood so resigned to his fate. "_You know how it is when you're the least wanted member of the gang_." He could barely get the words past his teeth. He could barely unclench his jaw enough to speak but he forced on. He wanted the truth to be known. "_They'll make you a deal, offer to clear your criminal record of everything you've done since you were fourteen in exchange for a few hundred hours of community service and_," he rubbed a hand over his face, drying the tears from his cheeks only for them to be replaced immediately by new ones, "_the location of the main man_," he finished. Then he collapsed and Emmett caught him and lowered him gently to the floor as he sobbed painfully, gasping for breath as grief shook his body.

He was vaguely aware of holding him and offering him some kind of comfort. He heard the scraping of chairs and a voice's saying;

"I can't do this."

"Wait!"

"I'm sorry Michael. I could see beyond your past but this isn't the past, this is right now and I … I can't be mixed up in this."

"But I love you!"

And then there was a bit of a scuffle. He felt Emmett leave his side and he looked up. Through his tear-blurred eyes, he could just make out the sight of Ted and Emmett restraining Michael and pushing him into a chair. Emmett pulled out a gun and trained it right between the shorter man's eyes. Debbie disappeared running after Ben, whilst Justin just sat on the floor hugging his knees tight to his chest and thinking about what was possibly the worst part about his new found memory. Now, he knew where Brian was … he was in prison.

::

They were completely silent. The ticking clock in the belly of a ceramic cat on the mantelpiece was the only thing making any noise. It was a stalemate. No one knew what was for the best.

"Would you like some more cocoa, Sunshine?" Debbie asked but the kid just shook his head. He hadn't finished the last one; rather just let it go slowly cold in the mug in his hands. He hadn't spoken since his memory had returned. He'd just sat in the armchair that Debbie had helped him into and stared into middle distance wondering what was going to happen now. Horvath had been called almost immediately and he'd probably be there any second but Debbie had already warned Justin about naming her son.

"Don't forget," she warned carefully for about the millionth time, "don't mention Michael's name. We don't double cross family like that."

Justin just scowled a little. He couldn't be bothered to point out how utterly hypocritical that statement was. Emmett and Ted clearly agreed with him because they were still watching Michael very closely and Emmett was still pointing his gun at him.

"Could you put that down?" Deb said eventually. "You're making me nervous."

"Well, it makes me nervous being in a room with a backstabbing baseball_-_ing bastard," Emmett replied stonily, his eyes flicking to Debbie for a moment, "but I'm dealing with it."

Justin couldn't stand this tension. It was so thick, he felt like it was choking him. He'd never seen Emmett so serious and he'd never seen Ted so angry. Debbie was trying to make out it wasn't that big a deal but it clearly was. Whoever said there was no honour among thieves had been right but that didn't mean that honour wasn't expected and that dishonour wasn't punished. He couldn't bare it so he just kept fiddling with his bracelet,turning it around his ankle slowly. He knew he was rubbing the skin raw underneath but he didn't care. He didn't care about much right now.

It seemed to be forever before the doorbell rang to announce Horvath's arrival. Debbie looked around the room at the four men, who stayed sitting perfectly still as though no noise had been made.

"I'll get it then, shall I?" she muttered, pushing herself to her feet. "And Emmett, get rid of that fucking gun. This guy's a cop."

Reluctantly, Emmett put the weapon away just as Debbie swung the door open.

"Detective Horvath," she smiled. "Welcome to our humble home."

"Is she kidding?" Ted muttered to Emmett. "She's actually pretending that nothing's changed."

"My aunt Lula used to say, a mother's love knows no bounds," Emmett shrugged.

"Not even this," Ted asked incredulously.

Emmett just shrugged and hushed Ted quickly as Horvath entered the room a little further. "Evening detective," he said politely.

"Emmett, Ted," Horvath nodded to both of them. "And this must be Michael."

"Hello," Michael said. Or at least tried to say. It actually came out more like a choked whisper and Horvath frowned.

"Everyone seems so nervous and on edge," he said, sitting in the chair Debbie had just vacated so he could be next to Justin. "I'm assuming you didn't remember anything good," he sighed.

Justin looked up slowly, his eyes fixing on Horvath's. "I remember everything," he said sternly.

"You know who bashed you?"

Justin looked at the floor, pursed his lips and nodded softly.

"Was it a cop?"

Justin just shook his head.

"I see," the cop nodded thoughtfully. "Can you tell me who it was?"

Justin shook his head again, his eyes still fixed on the floor.

"Well, in that case there's only one thing to do." Horvath got slowly to his feet and turned to face Michael.

"Michael Novotny, I'm arresting you on suspicion of aggravated assault."

"What?" Debbie cried.

"You have the right to remain silent, should you, however, refuse this right anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

"You can't do this!"

"You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you by the court. Do you understand what I have just said to you?"

Michael nodded glumly.

"Wait!" Debbie cried. "You can't arrest him. He wasn't even there!"

"Oh, he was there," Horvath corrected. "I've been trawling through the footage of Kinney's arrest and there's a lovely shot near the end of your son chatting to a cop."

"That doesn't mean he did it. It could have been Brian," she suggested desperately.

"Brian would never have done that!" Justin yelled for the first time since he'd made his vague, practically wordless, statement. Everyone looked at him but he just stared angrily at Deb. He couldn't even look at Michael. He didn't even like having to breathe the same air as him, in fact, the fact that Michael was breathing at all was kind of pissing him off at the moment.

Horvath noted the expression on the kid's face and turned calmly to Debbie and said, "with all due respect, Mrs. Novotny, I saw Kinney when he was arrested. And there was no way in hell he would do anything to hurt this kid. So Taylor, was it Michael?"

Justin stayed silent. He'd made a promise to Deb not to say her son's name and he intended to keep it despite her trying to blame Brian, despite the fact her son nearly killed him. Justin Taylor intended to be a man of his word.

"Fine. Don't say anything," Carl sighed. "I know it was you," he added yanking Michael to his feet. "You're coming with me."

"Where are you taking him?" Deb cried.

"The holding cell at the headquarters in Harrisburg," Horvath informed her as he began to push her son towards the front door.

"What about Brian?" Justin asked suddenly. "Now that you know it isn't him, can't you let him go?"

"His arrest had nothing to do with me," Horvath shrugged. "Sorry kid." And with that he was gone, pushing Michael along with him.

::

Debbie went to bed early that evening. The day had been way too much for her to bear. First she'd discovered her son had not only sold out to the police but also tried to bash another person's brains in, then, she'd had to watch him be arrested. It had all been too much. Now, she just wanted a Xanax and a decent nights' sleep.

"Well," Emmett sighed, once Debbie was up the stairs, "I guess you were right Teddy. Michael really did do everything you thought he had."

"It's one of those rare times when being right doesn't feel good," he replied morosely.

"I know," Emmett agreed quietly. Then he looked up to the other man in the room.

Justin was still huddled on the arm chair, barely moving, hardly speaking.

"How are you holding up, Justin?"

Justin looked up suddenly as though he was surprised to see other people in the room but he quickly smoothed out his expression, gave a weak smile and said, "I'm okay."

"Good," Emmett nodded. "That's good." They were quiet again, all thinking carefully about where this put them now. Everything just seemed more and more complicated. There were stuck in a maze with no escape and they all felt claustrophobic.

"So," Emmett began again after the silence got too much for him, "Teddy, what's our next plan of action? We've got Justin alive we've returned his memory to him. What's our next mission?"

"You're not Miss. Marple," Ted scorned. "And I'm not Sherlock Holmes. I work out how to commit crimes not solve them … especially crimes as complicated as this."

"So you're giving up?" Justin asked quietly. "You're just going to let Brian rot in prison for a crime he didn't commit, while someone literally gets away with murder. I thought you were supposed to be his friends."

"We are," Emmett insisted. "Come on Teddy, there must be something we can do."

"Well," he said slowly. "There was something Ben said earlier, when you two were upstairs."

"What? What was it?" Emmett asked excitedly.

"Just that a student of his, Hunter, I think he said his name was, reckoned he knew the kid they found in the dumpster."

"Oh my god," Emmett beamed. "Well, this is wonderful! We'll find him and ask him what he knows. We'll tell Horvath and get him to take a statement convict Stockwell and whoever is leading all this corruption and then Brian will be set free. Right Teddy?"

The older man looked more than a little sceptical. "Right, Teddy?" Emmett repeated more angrily.

"Er, sure," Ted nodded. "It's just, we don't know anything about this kid. We don't know where he lives or how to find him. We don't even know if he actually did know this Jason Kemp kid."

"But it's worth a try, isn't it?" Justin asked. "It has to be worth a try."

* * *

"Kinney," a prison warden said banging on the door to his cell with a baton. "Visitor."

"You're shitting me," Jayden's voice came from the bunk above. "He never gets any visitors. He never gets any letters, just the occasional lasagne from some mother of a friend."

"Well, he's got a visitor now," the guard said firmly. "Come on Kinney, you lazy son of a bitch, get moving."

"Some people are in bad moods today," Brian commented sarcastically as he unfolding his long limbs and stood up in the middle of the room.

"Move," the guard snapped and Brian just followed silently.

::

Brian walked along past the glassed off bank-desk-looking cubicles being taken up by deranged wives and girlfriends, past friends and lawyers until he spotted someone he recognized. She was smiling sadly at him, her hair was wild and all over the place and her bright colours were a dazzling reminder of the world beyond the bleak grey prison. He sat down at the chair behind the window and lifted the phone and she did the same.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing. I was hoping you'd be out by now," she hinted heavily.

"Yeah, they searched the tuna casserole Deb," he smirked. "They found the nail file."

"Shit," Debbie groaned, looking genuinely annoyed and shocked that the plan hadn't worked.

"And anyway, it would have taken me years to escape with a fucking file."

"Haven't you seen Shawshank Redemption?" Debbie demanded. "Would it have killed you to be a little bit imaginative?"

Brian laughed a little through his nose, though he didn't really feel like laughing. "You look like shit," he said.

"I could say the same to you."

"Prison overall orange isn't exactly my colour," he shrugged.

"Hmm," she nodded sadly. "You doing okay in there?"

"I keep my head down," Brian said honestly. "Stay in my cell mostly. It doesn't help that every fucker in the place knows I'm a fag."

"They giving you any trouble, kiddo."

"No," he smirked a little, "they also think I'm a murderer."

"Ah," she smiled a little and fell quiet for a second before adding. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm surviving," Brian corrected. He paused for a moment. Things were fucking awkward and that was putting it mildly. "So," he said eventually, "what are you doing here? I don't hear anything from you for six weeks and then suddenly you drop in for a visit."

"I told you, I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Bullshit," Brian snapped back immediately. "You've always got an ulterior motive. What's happened?"

She stayed quiet for a moment, just searching the other man's face for something but what, she wasn't quite sure. "It's Michael," she sighed.

"I don't wanna know," Brian said immediately.

"I know you're angry," Debbie said, trying to remain calm. "That's why I'm here … to apologize, for my son."

"Don't bother," he snapped. "No apologies, no regrets. Besides, it's not your fault he doesn't know anything about loyalty." Brian seethed. He was so angry he could barely hold the phone steady. He felt like smashing it through the glass and making a run for it. He'd go to Michael and shoot him right between the fucking eyes and he wouldn't even regret it. He wouldn't care if he spent the rest of his life behind bars but he wanted Michael to pay for what he'd done to Justin.

"He's been arrested a couple of days ago in conjunction with Justin's injuries."

"Good."

"He's sorry," Debbie whispered but Brian didn't care.

"He's a backstabbing, murdering, fuck head."

"Brian!" Debbie scolded. "I will not have you speak about Michael like that."

"No," Brian glared at her through the glass. "Don't let anyone speak ill of poor little Mikey. It's not his fault he double crossed his best friend. It's not his fault he killed Justin. He was just poor misguided fool. Fuck you, Deb! If you don't want to see Michael for what he really is that's fine but don't try and get me to look at him through your eyes."

Debbie glared through the glass at the man ahead of her. She'd never seen Brian Kinney look quite so out of control. She was used to him being the perfect picture of calm no matter what the situation. She was used to him showing no emotion but he was making up for it now, shaking with the anger that was consuming him.

"I know what happened that night in the attic," she said as purposefully and calmly as she could. "But just for your information, he didn't kill Sunshine. The kid's still alive."

With that Debbie hung up the phone and stormed away and Brian was just left to watch her go.

He felt strange, sort of sick and sort of like crying and a little bit like giving everyone he came across a hug. Justin wasn't dead. He was alive. He'd survived the bash to the head and someone must have found him on the floor in the attic and taken him to a hospital. He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, like maybe there was something worth fighting for on the outside. Maybe it wasn't all a lost cause. Now he had something to cling on to, now he had hope.

"You're in a good mood," Jayden commented as Brian returned to the cell with a smile plastered straight across his face.

"Someone's been resurrected," he smirked.


	19. Chapter 17

"Spades?" Ted asked, looking at the other man's confused expression. "Bridge?" He tried again, earning himself the safe look of confusion. "Hearts?"

"Are you just playing word association with yourself?" Emmett frowned. "Because if you are, you're not very good at it."

"They're all card games," Ted sighed, as he shuffled the cards in his hands like a Vegas pro.

"No, they're all objects," Emmett corrected.

"Don't you know any card games at all?"

Emmett seemed to think for a second and then announced, "I know snap."

"Brilliant," Ted scorned. "So why did you suggest we play cards?"

"Because I was bored," Emmett shrugged. "And it seemed better than moping around or letting you get all lost in your own head trying to work out how to help Brian."

"Hmm," Ted hummed, his mind quickly drifting back to that particular problem. He'd somehow managed to wrap himself up in all this completely. He managed to feel somehow responsible, like it was his job to sort everything out and save the day, just like Brian always did. Except, unlike Brian, Ted was yet to have any brilliant, innovative ideas.

"What about Strip Poker?" Emmett said suddenly. "I can play that. I always win."

"You do?" Ted was sceptical.

"Well, I'm always naked in two shakes of a lambs tail."

"So, you always lose then?"

"No," Emmett insisted. "I think that's a victory."

Ted smiled a little and then said, "you really don't know any card games except snap?"

Emmett shook his head and smiled sweetly, causing his friend to sigh heavily. "Snap it is then." And Emmett grinned.

"Do you think Justin would want to play?" Emmett asked as Ted had finished dealing. Ted glared at the other man, for waiting until he'd already split the pack into two even piles before suggesting a third player but Emmett didn't notice or didn't care that he was receiving daggers. "Well, do you?"

"I think we should leave him for now. Let him get some rest. I heard him thrashing about in his room again last night. I swear he's having nightmares but he won't let anyone help him."

"I guess he doesn't trust us," Emmett sighed sadly. "But after what Michael did … well, I'm not sure I'd trust us either."

Ted just nodded and placed a 'two of hearts' in the middle of the table. Emmett put down a 'six of diamonds' and the game began. It turned out, Emmett's ability to take things in and react was unbelievably sharp and he'd soon stolen all of Ted's cards and was insisting they play again.

"How did you get so good at this game?" Ted asked suspiciously, as though Emmett might have been hustling and fixing games of snap all over the world.

"Growing up in Hazlehurst Mississippi with nothing but a packet of cards to keep us entertained meant I played a lot of snap."

"But no other games," Ted pointed out "… at all?"

"You needed all the cards for the other games," Emmett shrugged. "I think we had thirty eight cards in our pack. Only one ace, which meant if we played War the person with the ace always won."

Ted laughed a little, shaking his head a little.

"But I always like the queens," Emmett smiled, picking up the queen of hearts to illustrate his point.

"Of course you did," Ted smiled, beginning to deal again. He'd dealt half the deck before he checked the clock on the wall. "You know," he said, thinking aloud as much as communicating with the other man, "it's reaching mid-day. Maybe we should get Justin."

"Let him rest. He could do with it. He's looked dead on his feet, ever since we got him home from the hospital," Emmett said, taking his freshly dealt pile of card and flipping the first one over to reveal an Ace of Spades. "Hey," he grinned, "ace of spades. That was the best card in the pack back home."

Ted rolled his eyes and placed a 'four of spades' and took a sip of his coffee. He was trying to get caught up in the game, and truth be told, he really did want to beat the nelly queen for his own sanity but despite really trying, he just couldn't take his mind off everything that had happened over the last few months. Stockwell's police force had left Justin for dead to cover up the murder of another boy Jason Kemp. They were pinning the murder on Brian, attempting to kill two birds with one stone … literally. But there were still so many things that he couldn't get straight in his head, like why were they covering up Kemp's murder? And how were they going to spring Brian? And what the fuck was Horvath doing? Because as far as Ted was concerned, all he had to do was show Justin's face to the press and the questions would start to be asked. But instead, he had Justin under house arrest, was allowing Brian to rot in prison and had done nothing to stop Stockwell and why? Because the whole case was so sheathed in legal bullshit that he needed a lot of hard evidence pointing directly at Stockwell to be able to really take this to court.

So far all they had was a boy that wasn't dead and a couple of conspiracy theories and that wasn't going to get them anywhere, not within the law. Sometimes, working within the law sucked, Ted thought, but that's probably why Horvath hadn't arrested them. Horvath was giving them a bit of a free pass because they could work outside the law; the only problem was working out what to do with that bit of freedom. And the worst bit was that all Ted could think was that Brian would know exactly what to do in this situation but, thanks to Michael, he was behind fucking bars.

"Snap!" Emmett yelled triumphantly for about the third time and Ted realized that in his time thinking, the other man had managed to get him down to only eight cards. Shit, he was going to lose again. Luckily for Ted, it was at that moment; Debbie decided to make her presence known. She threw open the bright red front door and the huge gust of wind that followed her into the house blew the large pile of cards Emmett had just won straight off the table. In the blink of an eye, Ted had dropped his cards and groaned heavily.

"Oh no," he feigned, "it appears that I've dropped all my cards. I'll just pick them up again. I think these were mine." He immediately picked up 23 cards and gave himself an internal pat on the back for his brilliance.

"Bullshit," Emmett accused.

"Oh," Debbie smiled, forcing the door closed behind her. "Are you playing 'bullshit'? I love that game." The two men looked at Debbie's expression, she looked like a woman trying very, very hard to act normal and was only managing to make herself seem even less so.

They glanced to each other and in unison asked, "what happened?"

"Nothing," she lied determinedly, putting her handbag on the table by the door. "So what are you playing?" She asked, changing the subject as abruptly as possible.

"Snap," Emmett smiled, "but Teddy's cheating because I'm winning."

"I don't know what you're talking about?" Ted said innocently and Emmett just rolled his eyes fondly and put down a card for the game to start again.

"Where's Sunshine?" Debbie asked suddenly.

"Upstairs," Emmett answered, riffling through his numerous cards tauntingly before placing the pile face down and flipping the top one over to continue playing … and winning.

"You mean he still hasn't come out of his room?"

"Nope," Emmett sighed. "He's been up their all morning."

"It's one in the afternoon," she exclaimed. "It's not healthy for him to be locked on his own all the time. I'm going to get him."

"Snap," Ted said triumphantly as Debbie disappeared up the stairs.

"No honey," Emmett replied sympathetically. "That's a seven of diamonds and a seven of hearts."

"I hate this damn game," Ted growled, dropping his cards onto the table and pushing himself on to his feet. He'd just flicked the TV on, when Debbie came racing down the stairs, waving something black around in her hand.

"He's gone," she cried as she reached the bottom step. "Sunshine's gone."

"What do you mean, he's gone?" Ted asked.

"Well which part didn't you understand?" Deb scorned, throwing the thing she was holding at him. As it hit him in the chest, he immediately recognized it as the house arrest bracelet that Horvath had forced Justin to wear.

"How the hell did he get out of this?"

"How should I know?" Debbie snapped back. "I wasn't here when he escaped," she reminded them angrily. "Didn't you hear him leave?"

"Yes Deb," Ted replied sarcastically. "We heard him leave and just let him go. In fact, I opened the door for him and Emmett threw confetti."

"No need for sarcasm," Debbie growled.

"Where do you think he's gone?" Emmett asked, going over to the bracelet and taking it from Ted. He twisted the thing slowly around in his hands.

"To see Brian," Ted suggested. "Now he knows where he is, he might be young, dumb and desperate enough to go there."

"He's not there," Deb said immediately.

"How do you know?" Emmett asked curiously, dropping the bracelet onto the sofa only for Ted to pick it straight back up and study it closely.

"It doesn't matter," she dismissed.

"Oh my god. That's where you've been!" He exclaimed. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"To apologize on behalf of Michael."

"Ha!" Emmett laughed bitterly. "And how did that go?"

"He basically told me to fuck off."

"I don't understand," Ted muttered from the sofa, more to himself than anything.

"It means he rudely told me to go away," Debbie explained, causing Ted to look up and give her the most puzzled look she'd ever seen.

"What are you talking about?" He asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"This," he held up the bracelet. "I don't understand how Justin could have got it off without the alarm going off and alerting Horvath."

"Maybe it did," Emmett suggested. "I mean we don't know how long ago Justin took it off and Horvath's got to come from Harrisburg."

"He'll be staying closer than that at the moment," Ted said. "He's not going to travel four hours every day to get to Pittsburgh to work on this case." He took another look at the bracelet spinning it carefully in his fingers. He couldn't work out how Justin had possibly managed to get the thing off his leg; it had always been so tight fitting.

"What's this?" Deb asked suddenly, picking up something covered in silver foil from near her bag. The two men shrugged and she began to unwrap it. As soon as she pealed the one side away, the bracelet in Ted's hand bleeped loudly and vibrated.

"It's the box," she exclaimed, pulling the rest of the foil away, to reveal the machine that connected to the bracelet. "Why the fuck was it covered in foil?"

"To scramble the signal," Ted said suddenly thinking out loud. "Smart little fucker. He covered the thing in foil to stop the bracelet being able to send a signal that it wasn't on his leg anymore."

"Doesn't explain how he got it off though?"

"Little baby oil, little lube," Emmett shrugged. "Perfect for fitting any object into any hole, no matter how tight the fit is." The other two looked at him half-impressed, half amused but he just shrugged. "I can think of a million and one ways to get large things into holes," he winked and Ted just laughed a little through his nose and put the bracelet in the centre of the coffee table. Then seriously he said,

"I'm not sure if we're being a little bit optimistic, assuming it was Justin's choice to leave."

"What are you saying?" Emmett asked immediately.

"I just don't know how a nineteen year old would be able to work all this out and I can't think of any reason he'd have for leaving."

"So what are you saying Teddy?" Emmett asked firmly. He didn't want vague suggestions or conspiracy theories; he wanted to know exactly what Ted was thinking. No bullshitting, no nothing.

"It's just that the police would find it very easy to remove a bracelet like this is they had to. They'd know how to prevent the signals, they'd know how to get away without alerting Horvath and they don't want Justin around to ruin anything. They've left him for dead once before."

"Please don't think like that," Emmett whispered.

"I'm just saying…"

"Well, don't," Emmett insisted. "He's just gone somewhere. He'll be back soon flashing that lovely smile of his, lighting up the room."

"Em," Ted tried to comfort.

"No! Teddy. I'm not going to think that he's anything but going for a breath of fresh air. A bit of a walk, maybe he went to see his mother. Now, I think I'll make some tea. Does anyone want one?"

Ted wondered if he should say something else but seeing the look on his friend's face he decided better of it and just shook his head and declined the offer of tea.

"Deb?" Emmett asked brightly.

"No, it's okay baby. You make one for yourself."

"Right," Emmett nodded. "I will. And we need cookies."

As Emmett tried to keep himself busy in the kitchen, Debbie tried to wrack her brains to come up with any places Justin might have gone had he actually escaped. Ted just picked up the bracelet again and turned it over looking and studying every inch of it.

He just didn't believe the kid could have got out of this bracelet. No matter how optimistic the others wanted to be, he couldn't shake the horrible sinking feeling that all that thrashing about last night hadn't been a nightmare and that Justin had been kidnapped for real this time.

* * *

**Obviously, I have no idea how you'd get a house-arrest bracelet off. I'm not even sure it's possible but I'm hoping you'll give me a bit of an artistic licence on this one.**


	20. Chapter 18

Professor Ben Bruckner. That's what the small gold plaque on the office door had said so he'd peered through the window and, when he'd seen the room was empty, he'd snuck inside. He looked ridiculous. He knew he looked ridiculous in his oversized coat and woolly hat pulled down as far as it would go while his scarf was wrapped around his mouth and nose. It was the closest thing to an inconspicuous disguise he could manage whilst walking around Carnegie Mellon. After all, people might get suspicious if Pittsburgh's most famous murder victim suddenly appeared in a University. Besides people were already peering at him strangely because he'd pulled up in a Corvette Stingray and what kind of student can afford one of those?

His disguise was probably helped by the fact that he was walking with a bit of a limp after his strenuous efforts earlier to remove his prison bracelet. He'd nearly frozen his foot off and lost half the skin in the process but it was worth it now that he was free.

Justin hobbled into the room and moved as quickly as he could to a large notice board that was on the side wall. On it were posters of some gay author's book signing, a few photo's of various Buddhist temples and right in the bottom right hand corner was an A4 piece of paper which read 'timetable'. He scanned it quickly. Ben's gay studies classes were taught mainly in room 5.32. Perfect. He could just hide out there all day until he got what he wanted. Pulling his scarf tighter around his face, he crept to the door, opened it and rejoined the students racing to their next lecture, or seminar, or workshop, or party or wherever they were heading in their totally hectic, totally fucked up lives. Like they knew anything about hectic or fucked up. Justin found himself hating them all for the simplicity and normality of their existence but even now, in a disguise sneaking around a college with his ankle in agony, he still didn't think he'd trade his last few months for anything.

It took him much longer than he'd have liked to find room 5.32 but he was grateful to find that it was a pretty huge lecture theatre, which would allow him to hide at the back until he spotted the person he was after. He rushed up the middle set of stairs and slid into some seats about two rows from the back. He sat quietly as the theatre began to fill up with people and waited until the man he'd seen just briefly the other day walked in and introduced himself as Professor Bruckner.

He told everyone they'd wait just a few more minutes and after the last of the stragglers entered the room, dipping their heads and looking embarrassed, he closed the door and turned to the class and began a lectured he'd called 'gay semiotics in film and television'.

"Can anyone tell me why it is important that more and more gay characters get shown on television shows?" Was Ben's opening question.

"Is it so we can all complain how they only ever show hideous stereotypes and protest about being misrepresented?" Asked a particularly miserable looking boy, slouching against the wall on the far side of the theatre. The boy had greasy, longish dirty blonde hair and a tone to his voice that suggested he'd seen perhaps a little too much of the world for his tender age.

"And why would you say that?" Ben asked, clearly trying to begin a debate.

"Well, it's true isn't it?" The boy said. "We all complain that all the gay characters on TV are portrayed as eunuchs. I mean Gay as Blazes is the biggest pile of horseshit I've ever seen. Fag's don't sit around talking about monogamy and books by Sylvia Plath. They don't give a shit about that stuff."

"And what do fags give a shit about?" Ben encouraged.

"Sucking and fucking."

"I don't think that's all," Ben said calmly. "I think many gay men and women have a wide range of varying interests. From poetry to sports. From painting to building."

"From blowjobs to rim jobs," the boy interrupted.

Ben seemed to stop for a second and realising he wasn't going to get through to the boy, he sighed heavily. "Well, this appears to be a very strong opinion of yours," he turned to rest of the class. "Does anyone else agree with Hunter?"

Justin smiled to himself. Excellent. So that was Hunter. This spying thing was easier than he'd thought. He sat through the rest of the lecture, his eyes trained carefully on Hunter, determined not to lose sight of him for even a second. He vaguely heard some of the other opinionated members of the class putting across their views. A guy named Cody believed that gays had to stand up for themselves and wanted to start a vigilante group to patrol the streets around Liberty Avenue. A guy named Ethan believed that to best integrate with heterosexual people was to show them that we are just as talented as they are.

"I'm able to perform a nearly perfect rendition of Paganini's cantabile in D major," he bragged.

"Just nearly perfect?" Hunter asked. "Because I can perform a perfect blowjob in O major," he smirked.

"Do you think the straight people would wanna know about that?" Ethan asked coldly. "Do you think they'd be impressed by your ability to suck cock?"

"I know plenty of 'straight' guys who've been very impressed by my ability to suck cock," Hunter shot back.

"Who cares what impresses hetero's anyway?" Cody snapped. "They're just fucking breeders who hate us behind our backs and to our faces."

Justin couldn't help thinking that these three men were like three parts of Brian Kinney. Promiscuity belonged to Hunter, bitterness was Cody and arrogance was Ethan. He imagined that this lecture would be the best glimpse he'd ever get into the inner-workings of Brian's mind.

"I think that's a little brash, Cody," Ben complained, trying in some way to mediate the discussion. It was obvious to everyone that his students were quickly getting out of hand.

"Is it?" The boy with the buzz cut asked. "What about that kid who got killed and left in a dumpster?"

"We've already discussed this several times," Ben sighed. "I don't think we need to talk about it again."

"But you admitted that you thought the press were only as interested as they were because the scandal was queer."

"I told you that kid in the dumpster wasn't that Taylor, kid," Hunter muttered.

"Yeah, yeah," Ethan dismissed. "You knew him from your hustler days."

"It's true," Hunter insisted.

"I don't think we should be so quick to dismiss Hunter's theory," Ben suggested and Justin could tell the professor was thinking back to a couple of days ago and the fiasco that had been a dinner party at Deb's. "What do we actually know about this case? Only the stuff the media have told us. For all we know, Justin Taylor's is alive and well."

"But we know it was him," Ethan insisted. "They caught Kinney, they've done all the DNA tests. It all matched up."

"So they tell us," Hunter pointed out. "That body was such a mess, it could have been anyone."

"But that's my point, isn't it?" Cody cried as though he thought he might finally get through to the people around him. "It could have been anyone. You," he pointed to a boy in the third row, "you," a girl near the middle, "even you," his finger landed on Justin and he shuddered. Justin couldn't help think how close he'd been to actually being 'dumpster boy' or at least 'attic boy'.

"Any of us could have been lying dead in that dumpster," Cody finished grandly, "and the cops didn't do a goddamn thing to stop it."

"Well, they arrested the guy who did it," Ben pointed out.

Justin was feeling restless at the back of the room. They were talking about him, about Brian. This was what the real people of Liberty Avenue thought had happened. They thought that he'd been kidnapped, killed and tossed in a dumpster by Brian. They didn't know Brian wasn't like that. They didn't know the way Brian had opened up to him, told him things about his childhood he'd never told anyone. They didn't know how Brian had told him he loved him or how much he, Justin Taylor, was in love with Brian.

"Kinney? They arrested him afterwards," Cody retaliated. "When the damage was already done. This is why we need people on the streets protecting people now."

"That'll just cause more friction," Ethan argued. "We need to bond with them."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Scorned Hunter. "Let me guess, display for them your wonderful musical skills because let me tell you, Ethan, fags won't be interested in the size of that talent."

"Yeah," Cody joined in, "what are you going to do if a straight asshole decides to take a knife to your throat? Serenade him into submission? Play him into Paralysis?" He took pleasure watching Ethan squirm for a second before turning to the rest of the class. "We need to take action against the breeders who think they can kick us around before it's too late."

"But wasn't Kinney gay?" Asked a tall girl sat near the front. She had a bright pink Mohawk that stretched from temple to temple and along her head cutting off like 'V' at the back. She was wearing a leather jacket and too much black eyeliner and looked like the only person in the group of otherwise quiet students that would attempt to stand up to the three pompous assholes currently arguing.

"What are you saying?" Cody asked, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

She just shrugged. "What I'm saying is, you can blame breeders for all your problems if you want to, but it seems to me like you just don't wanna accept responsibility for your own mistakes. If you go out looking for trouble, you're just as bad as they are."

"You don't know anything, you fucking dyke."

"Faggot!"

"Alright, alright," Ben said, trying to stop the imminent boxing match that was about to take place in his class. "Look, it's clear you all have strong opinions on the Justin Taylor case. Perhaps, as Brian Kinney's court date is going to be in a couple of weeks and it's therefore current and affecting us now we can do an assignment on it." He seemed to think for a second before deciding, "2000 words on what affect the verdict will have on the gay community with a brief paragraph on what's actually happened in the case so far." He looked quickly at laptop and said, "I'll collect that in a week on Friday."

The collective groan from the class made Ben smirk a little but he didn't change the date. "Okay," he sighed, looking up at his class. "You can go. See you Friday everyone."

The flurry of action and movement threw Justin completely and he immediately lost track of Hunter entirely in the crowd of teenagers. He got to his feet, the right one still stung like a mother bitch as he tried to walk down the steps and follow the mop of greasy mousy coloured hair that he knew belonged to Hunter. He pushed through the floods of people, keeping his sites locked on the back of Hunter's head. He was more than a little relieved to see that he was walking with the pink haired lesbian, well that would make him easier to follow.

As soon as they left the lecture room and moved out into the corridor, Justin thanked his lucky stars that Ben had decided to let the class out early because it meant that the only three people in this corridor at the moment were himself, the Mohawk girl and Hunter. He hobbled quickly after them and called Hunter's name loudly. The other boy turned around to glare at him.

"I'm sorry," Hunter frowned. "Do I know you?"

"Sort of," Justin replied from behind his scarf. "Most people do. Can we talk? I've got a favour to ask."

Hunter looked shifty, his eyes flicking around everywhere as though expecting the police or camera's to catch him on film. He leant forward and whispered in Justin's ear, "if this is about hustling, I don't do it anymore. Not here anyway."

"It's not," Justin said quickly, horrified that he'd been misunderstood. "It's about an old friend of yours … Jason Kemp."

Hunter narrowed his eyes carefully at the man in front of him. He looked ridiculous in his huge coat and his scarf and big hat but there was something somewhat familiar about him too. He looked around him and then to the girl behind him.

"I'll see you later, Kel."

The girl just rolled her eyes. "Fags," she muttered under her breath. "All they care about is getting their dicks sucked."

"Munchers," Hunter smiled at Justin. "All they do is moan about things."

"I think you'll find that's girls in general," Justin smirked.

Hunter just nodded. "It's why I'm a fag," he chuckled. Then he looked at the man and along the corridor which was quickly filling with people. "We need somewhere to talk," he confirmed. "In here," he took hold of the sleeve of Justin's shirt and dragged him into the restroom.

Hunter checked under the door of the two cubicles and satisfied they were the only ones in the room, he locked the main door.

"Right," he said turning to look at Justin. "Who are you?"

Justin sighed heavily. He guessed he wouldn't be able to get through this meeting without revealing his identity but he had no idea how the boy would react. He hoped Hunter would be sensible enough to not run to the nearest authority. He hoped he'd understand and help him with information about Jason Kemp but Justin couldn't be sure. He was finding it difficult to trust anybody's reactions after the baseball incident with Michael but he had to do this … for Brian.

He reached up slowly and began to unwind his scarf and pull off his hat. He watched as the other man just gaped in confusion as his identity was revealed.

"Shit," Hunter whistled, his face blanching a little. "Is it…" he stammered. "I mean… Are you really him?"

Justin just nodded slowly.

"Justin Taylor," Hunter whispered. His hand reached up as though he was going to touch Justin's face but he seemed to think better of it and his arm fell limply to his side. He just stared for a second and then seemed to snap out of whatever spell he was under and smirked a little. "What the fuck's a dead man want with me?" He asked.

Justin let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as relief at how well Hunter seemed to be taking this washed over him.

"I need you to tell me what you know about Jason Kemp," he said sternly. "Everything depends on it."

"That's a lot of pressure," Hunter said, nodding slowly. His eyes were darting all over the blonde ahead of him. He looked somehow different to how he'd looked on the TV. He looked older, wiser, perhaps a little more cynical and angry. He looked like he'd seen things he'd rather forget and Hunter felt like he could relate to that but that didn't mean he trusted the ex-dead-man. "What would be the point in telling you?" He asked. "No one believes me."

"I will," Justin promised. "Tell me."

Hunter looked into the blue eyes and took a deep breath. He had no idea what was going on, seeing Justin Taylor standing in front of him was freaking him out more than he let on. Although he'd been sure a few months ago when the body in the dumpster was found that it was Kemp, as time went on he figured he'd made a mistake. He guessed there'd been loads of blonde twinks that disappeared. He'd begun to believe the lie everyone told him because it was easier that way but now…. Now everything had been turned on its head again and this man was telling him everything depended on what he knew. He trembled. That really was a lot of pressure.

"I knew him," Hunter started quietly. "Jason. We used to hang around in the same bars. He was kinda new to it so I … I showed him the ropes. How to tell who was gonna treat you okay and who…." He shuddered a little, twisting his thumbs in his hands. "Anyway," he continued steadily, "this guy came in and I sorta knew of him. He was a bad one, a real bad one, everyone knew it but Jason was desperate for the money. They were gonna evict him or something, I don't know." He sniffed, his head still dipped as he stared pointedly at the floor. "I followed them. I didn't think I'd be able to do anything but I wanted to I dunno … be there or something, I guess. The guy took Jason back to his house. That was strange 'cause he never took anyone back to his house. It was too risky. I watched Jason go in but…" he swallowed before choking, "he never came back out." Hunter stopped for a second, he was shaking a little as he spoke. "The guy wheeled out this big suitcase a couple of hours later, got in the car and drove off in the direction of Liberty Avenue. Next thing I know, you, Justin Taylor, the missing twink, has been found dead in a dumpster. How fucking convenient for him?"

"For who?" Justin insisted. "You know who the guy was, don't you?"

Hunter shifted nervously.

"Come on, Hunter," he encouraged. "It's just us here. What's the guy's name?"

"Rikert," Hunter almost sobbed. "_Officer_ Rikert."

Justin just stared in shock and disbelief. This was why they'd wanted to cover up the murder of Jason Kemp. This was why they were using Justin's name. This was why they were letting Brian take the blame. They were covering the ass of one of their own, letting Justin's own family suffer, leaving Justin to die to make sure he couldn't ruin things. Well, fuck that … he was still here and he was going to ruin everything if he could.

"You have to tell the police," Justin said immediately.

"Really? Which one should I tell? Rikert himself or one of his buddies like Stockwell?" Hunter scorned.

"I know someone, someone who's above all of them, someone who can get justice. You just have to make a statement."

"The fuck I do!"

"But if you don't, Rikert and Stockwell will get away with it."

"And if I _do_, I'll end up the next body in a dumpster." He sighed and looked at the man ahead of him. "Sorry Justin, it's better this way. Then no one else will get hurt."

"What about the people who are already hurt? All my family that think I'm dead. A whole police force who need me to not exist and Brian … what about him? He could get life in prison if you don't say something."

"Why the fuck do you care about Kinney?" Hunter frowned. "Wasn't he the one who kidnapped you?"

"He didn't kidnap me," Justin scowled. "I ran away with him."

Hunter raised an eyebrow and smiled a little. "Shit," he said. "The news really did get it all wrong, didn't they? Fuck." He grinned a little before, looking at Justin carefully, "you lucky son of a bitch," he shook his head in mock envy, "Kinney's fucking hot."

"I know," Justin frowned. He was a little confused by Hunter's reaction.

"I get why you'd want him back," the boy smirked. "I bet he's a great fuck."

"Yeah, he is" Justin frowned. "Listen, will you help me or not?"

"I'd love to," Hunter said. "But you wanting your little sugar-daddy back isn't reason enough for me to risk my life."

At that second the bathroom door swung open to reveal a very frustrated Ben in the doorway, with a bunch of students with full bladders jiggling about behind him. He spotted Justin and immediately turned to look at the crowds of impatient male students.

"Sorry," he lied. "These toilets are flooded. You'll have to go to the ones upstairs."

The collective groan was pretty loud but Justin didn't care. His heart was beating so fast he thought it would explode out of his chest. He couldn't believe how lucky he'd been. He couldn't even imagine what would have happened if a caretaker had opened the locked door or even any other faculty member. He was even grateful that Ben's heavily toned and muscular body had meant he'd been blocked from view of anyone else. It had been close. Way too close, he decided.

Ben shut the door and glared at Justin.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He demanded and then looking to Hunter he scowled so much his eyes almost disappeared. "You better not be turning tricks in the College restrooms," he snapped.

"He wasn't," Justin said quickly. "I was asking him what he knew about Jason Kemp."

Ben's eyes flicked from one to the other and clearly deciding he believed them, he sighed heavily. "I'll take you home," he said.

"I've brought a car," Justin explained.

"I don't care," Ben snapped. "I'm taking you home. You too, Hunter. Come on, let's go. And Justin, keep your head down."

Justin wrapped his scarf back around his face and pulled his hat down over his face and with that they left the bathroom as quickly and quietly as they could, pushing their way through the crowds until they reached Ben's car.

* * *

"What do you mean you don't know where he is!" Horvath yelled. His voice was so loud and so thundering, Emmett wasn't sure how the window panes had stayed intact.

"He's missing," Debbie repeated calmly for what must have been the eighth or ninth time. Horvath had been yelling the same things over and over for about ten minutes and instead of being intimidating it was just boring.

"Missing where?"

Debbie sighed heavily and slumped back further into her arm chair. "We don't know."

"But how can you not know where he is?"

"Because he's missing."

"Missing where?"

"Jesus Christ," Debbie cried. "We - don't - know!" She said slowly sounding out each and every syllable in that way people do sometimes when talking to a foreigner.

"Well, you should have been taking care of him, stopping him from disappearing."

"I thought that was the job of your fancy machine," she scowled. "But he was long gone before you had any kind of indication that the anklet had even been tampered with. In fact, you only received a signal at all because I decided to unwrap the machine, so don't come here telling us it's our fault."

Horvath seemed to calm down for a second. A screaming match with Debbie was not a worthwhile time for his efforts. He thought hard and then said,

"Well he can't have gotten that far, right? We'll split up in different cars and look for him."

"We can't," Ted sighed. "The Corvette's gone. Wherever he is, he got there by car."

"What!" He bellowed. "Well where the hell would he have gone?"

"We don't know," Debbie sighed.

"What do you mean you don't know?" … and the circular conversation continued.

::

They were still repeating the looping conversation five minutes later when the doorbell sounded.

"Oh thank god," Emmett said, jumping to his feet immediately. "Something to break up groundhog minute." He almost ran to the door and opened it as Horvath continued to ask where Justin had gone and how he had escaped.

"Well, well, well," Emmett smiled as he spotted the professor holding onto the scruff of Justin's shirt. "Professor, you really are a saint." Then he looked at Justin and raised an eyebrow, "we've just been talking about you," he said. "Come on in." He cleared his throat loudly to gain the attention of the other three people in the room. "I, Miss Honeycutt, have the answer to all your prayers. In you come boys." And with that he ushered Ben, still with Justin clutched tightly in his hand, into the sitting room. He looked around at the stunned people and smiled. "It's all about presentation when it comes to giving a gift and presentation doesn't come much better that this," he hugged Ben's bicep a little and smiled.

"Sunshine," Debbie cried, finally regaining her ability to speak.

"Hi Deb," he said sheepishly. He did feel bad that he'd worried them but it had been worth it, he felt sure of that. He watched as Debbie leapt up to hug the kid so tight he could hardly breath.

"Oh my god," she breathed, rocking him gently, "we were so worried. Oh Ben, where did you find him?"

"Actually," the professor smiled a little, "he sort of found me. Or one of my students anyway."

"He's in the car," Justin beamed. "Hi Ted."

The older man just nodded his head in response.

"Who's in the car, baby?" Debbie asked.

"Hunter, the kid who saw who murdered dumpster boy."

::

He'd taken some persuading. In fact, he'd had taken a lot of persuading … more than a lot. But eventually, a combination of pleading and bribery meant that Hunter was sitting in Debbie's living room, giving a written statement to Horvath.

"Name?" Horvath started.

"Hunter," the kid replied.

"I need your whole name, son," he said softly. He didn't want to scare the kid off. This was probably his only chance at getting some tangible evidence. A real witness to the crime.

"James Hunter Montgomery," Hunter sighed. "But everyone calls me Hunter."

"Why?" Debbie asked, "James is such a nice name."

"Hunter does the trick," the kid replied. Then he smirked and added, "in more ways than one."

Emmett smiled a little bit and lowered his voice so only Ted and Justin could hear, "Brian would love this kid."

"I know," Justin sighed. "It's a bit weird how similar they are."

Emmett smiled and put his arm around Justin's shoulders. "Brian loves you too, sweetie. That man's lucky to have someone like you to do things like this," he pointed to where Hunter was beginning to give his statement, "for him." He gave him a gentle kiss to the cheek and whispered, "well done baby."

"A suitcase?" They heard Carl say interestedly as Hunter came to the end of his story.

"Yeah," Hunter nodded.

"What did it look like?"

"An old brown thing, with blue straps I think, I'm not sure … why?"

"An old brown suitcase with blue straps was found in the attic room, where I discovered Justin," he said sternly. "There's blood all over it we just didn't know who's it was. I guess we'll try Kemp." He turned back to Hunter. "You saw him with the suitcase, what happened next?"

"He threw it in his car and drove towards Liberty Avenue. That's the last I saw of him," Hunter said.

"Okay," Horvath nodded, finishing off the paper work. "How old are you, Hunter?" he asked.

"How old do you want me to be?" Hunter smirked, immediately reverting to hustler mode, but seeing everyone's solemn faces he sighed, "eighteen."

"Okay, then you can sign this statement. Read it first to make sure it's correct."

"Tell you what officer," Hunter said, "I'll just trust you." And he signed the piece of paper without glancing at a single word.

"Well, I won't," Debbie frowned, taking the statement off Hunter and skimming it quickly, when she was satisfied, she handed the paper back to Horvath and nodded. "It seems fine," she said, almost as though she'd been hoping for it to be full of lies.

"Not all cops are bad people," Horvath smiled.

"Same could be said for criminals in a way," Justin piped up. "You've got a statement, I'm alive. Can you get Brian out now … please?"

"I've already told you, kid. That's not my case. But hopefully now we can get the ball moving."

"Fuck," Justin yelled, stamping his foot a little in anger. "I've done everything you asked of me … and more! Why can't you get him back for me?"

Horvath just ignored Justin, as the kid began to breath heavily, his fists clenching in anger. His right fist suddenly going into spasm as the muscles clenched too much.

"Ahh," he cried, shaking it out. As though things couldn't get any worse. The pain was pretty intense and he couldn't straighten his fingers at all.

"You okay, baby?" Emmett asked, reaching out to help.

"I'm alright," Justin snapped. Then to Horvath, he hissed, "what are you going to do next?"

"I'll see if I can get anywhere with Rikert. I'll expect you both," he looked from Justin to Hunter, "available for court dates in the next month or two, okay?"

"Sure," Justin said, grimacing as the pain of his hand shot up him arm.

"Baby, let me help you with that," Emmett soothed softly. "We'll run it under some warm water. Come on."

Justin reluctantly allowed Emmett to help him but his attention was still on the conversation in the middle of the sitting room.

"I have to go to court?" Hunter asked nervously.

"Yes, just to confirm that what is written on here is what you said, maybe answer a few questions."

"I don't know if…"

"It'll be fine," Horvath said.

"It'll be okay, Hunter," Ben promised his student carefully. "We won't let anything happen to you."

Hunter shuddered a little and looked up at his professor. "That's exactly what I said to Jason about two hours before he went home with Rikert," he shuddered.

"The law will protect you," Horvath tried again.

"Like it protected him?" He asked, nodded his head in Justin's direction. "He told me how the police just left him for dead."

"It won't be like that for you," Horvath promised. "It's almost over now. Everything will be alright."

And those were what people often refer to as famous last words….


	21. Chapter 19

Brian enjoyed the five minutes of peace and quiet he would receive when Jayden was off collecting the post. He often spent this time just enjoying the silence or thinking of Justin … how Justin was alive and well despite everything and against all odds, the kid was still going. Sometimes he thought of Michael and was glad that he too was rotting in some cell somewhere although he couldn't work out why the police who'd practically praised him for trying to kill Justin would then turn around and arrest him but he didn't care. He didn't care about Michael anymore, that stage of his life was over.

Of course, as with every other day. Jayden always came back after he'd picked up his letter and it wasn't long before heavy, clumsy footsteps began clattering along the metal floor outside the cell. Jay had no sense of being quiet, everything he did was loud and over the top and bumbling. Brian could easily understand why Jay had been caught so many times for shop lifting. The younger man came into the room and climbed up onto his own bed. Brian could hear an envelope being ripped and the crinkling of paper being pulled free. Usually, letter's meant Brian would have a few moments of silence whilst Jayden occupied himself with reading but not today, today he decided to read aloud.

"I've been struggling to work out how to begin this letter," he began, and Brian groaned. Why the fuck was he reading aloud? Couldn't he leave him alone? "I know it'll only be a short one because my hand's a bit of a mess." Brian frowned. Why would Jayden's mother's hand be a mess? "I'm writing this in your old room. The decoration is so much like you I sometimes feel like you're here. I only just remembered that you were in prison. I lost my memory of the baseball incident. No one would tell me where you were."

"Shit!" Brian shouted suddenly as it dawned on him exactly why Jayden had chosen to read this particular letter out. "That's for me! Give it here."

"I was wondering how long it would take you to realize," Jay giggled, handing over the letter but Brian ignored the paper and grabbed Jayden's wrist tightly in his grasp, pulling the kid's face close to his own.

"Are you coming on to me?" Jayden tried to joke but Brian's eyes were black with anger.

"You so much as touch any of my stuff ever again, I will cut your dick off and make you suck it."

Jay's eyebrows rose at the somewhat odd threat but Jay decided it was not only odd but very, very doable. If he'd learnt anything about Brian Kinney in the last few months it was that he didn't make promises he couldn't keep. "You got it?"

"I-I got it," Jay nodded, stammering a little. "Sorry Bri."

Brian nodded curtly and tore the letter out of Jay's hands. Jay didn't say a word for a long time, which allowed Brian to read and re-read the letter from Justin over and over again in peace.

'_Brian,  
__I've been struggling to work out how to begin this letter.. I know it'll only be a short one because my hand's a bit of a mess and I can't always keep it under control. I'm writing this in your old room. The decoration is so much like you I sometimes feel like you're here. I only just remembered that you were in prison. I lost my memory of the baseball incident. No one would tell me where you were. It was horrible._

_I can't say much but I think our luck will change soon. All these things are happening out here and I can't wait to tell you all about them. I'll tell you all about it when you get out.'_

There was a jagged line straight across the page then. This must have been what Justin had meant when he said he lost control of his hand. Fucking Michael!

'_Woops. I guess I'm getting tired. I should probably go.' _

The last few words had really thick and large letters and it looked like Justin had been working really hard not to let his hand fail him again.

'_No matter what happens or how long it takes, I'll be waiting for you.  
__I love you … so much.  
__Sunshine. (The name was Deb's idea.)'_

"She's a smart lady," Brian muttered aloud. He hadn't been surprised that there hadn't been any communication to him from his friends. They couldn't risk having their letters read and then being found and arrested themselves but, he supposed this was just about vague enough to get away with. Anyway, the police thought Justin was dead, so they wouldn't jump to that conclusion unless it was staring them in the face.

"What was that?" Jayden asked suddenly.

"Huh? Oh … nothing," Brian discarded him quickly and began to reread the letter. He'd got through the letter again twice and was now just staring at the words 'I love you' and smiling like a Cheshire cat. He felt like an absolute lesbian, lying on his back smiling as he thought about how Justin loved him. The emotion was almost so strong, he felt sick and like his whole body was on fire but the flames were cold and tingling his entire being. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling. He read the words again and then Jayden interrupted.

"So who is Sunshine?" He asked. "A boyfriend?"

Brian thought about ignoring the kid. He thought about putting the letter under his pillow and going to sleep but he didn't. The truth was, he sort of wanted to talk about Justin. He really wanted everyone in the world to know how lucky he was to have him.

"Sort of," Brian confirmed.

"Really?" Jayden's confused little face peered over the side of the top bunk and he looked hilarious his features all scrunched up and upside down. "You don't strike me as the boyfriend type. More the fuck 'em and leave 'em type."

"Well I said 'sort of'," Brian sighed. Jayden frowned a little and then his face disappeared. For a second, Brian actually thought the conversation was over but no such luck. Next second, the kid landed softly on the ground next to him and was sat on the bottom bunk near Brian's legs.

"It's him, isn't it?" Jayden said knowingly. "The one you thought was dead."

Brian looked carefully at the kid and shrugged a little.

"I fucking knew it," Jay grinned, almost jumping off his seat with triumph. "Has he got a name?"

"Yes," Brian answered shortly. There was no way in hell he could tell Jayden the person who'd written to him was called Justin because then the questions would never end.

"But you're not going to tell me," Jay finished for him. "Fine," he sighed. Then he looked very carefully at Brian. In fact, he was more staring at him, scrutinizing every little thing about him. Brian was about to ask him what the fuck he was doing when Jay said;

"you wouldn't know to look at ya?"

"Know what?" Brian asked, but he knew what because it was the one thing about Brian that Jayden was obsessed with. He didn't care that he'd supposedly kidnapped a guy, he didn't care that he'd supposedly killed a guy but he cared immensely that he'd fucked a guy … lots of guys. And it wasn't a hatred Jayden had but a genuine interest and right on cue, Jayden answered;

"that you're a fag."

"Oh," Brian said, rolling his eyes and turning his head away from his cell mate.

"You look straight."

"Only when I'm wearing a prison uniform and can't get my products."

"Christ, you really _are_ queer," Jay snorted.

Brian just shrugged. "It's the way of the world. No breeder looks as good as I do."

Jay smirked a little. Then after a second he asked, "do you have gaydar?"

Brian laughed. He actually laughed, the first time since he'd been in this prison. What the fuck, he was happy. "Gaydar?" He repeated, still chuckling a bit.

"Should I take that as a 'no'?" Jay asked, looking like a petulant child.

"I don't have a radar in my head that screams _faggot_, every time I see another queer, no," he smirked.

"So how do you know?"

"There are signs."

"Like…" Jay encouraged.

"The way they look at you, the way they dress, whether they hold your hand just a little too long when you shake."

"I dunno," Jay said looking sceptical. "I still don't reckon I could tell."

"So ask another fag," Brian shrugged.

"But you're the only one I know," Jay protested.

"No," Brian said firmly but casually. "You know two."

"I do?"

"Yeah, Big Al, the gym whore, hangs around in the yard with the rest of the jocks."

"Yeah?"

"Massive bottom," Brian smirked.

Jay looked confused for a second before concluding, "his ass ain't that big."

"Christ," Brian frowned, staring at the kid in disbelief. "Fucking breeders. I mean he is a bottom, a catcher, a receiver, a bottom boy."

Jay's eyes grew wide in amazement. He just stared at his cellmate for a second in complete disbelief. "No fucking way," he snorted. His eyes bright like a child on Christmas day. "You mean he…"

"...takes it up the ass?" Brian finished for him. "Yeah. And loves it."

"Wow," Jay whistled. "Just goes to show, you really can't tell."

"Hmmm," Brian hummed his agreement before moving his leg sideways so he gave the younger man a bit of a kick. "Fuck off," he added as thought the gesture weren't enough. "I'm asleep."

Jay just shook his head and muttered, "asshole" as he climbed back up to his own bed.

::

Brian wasn't sure how much time had passed since his conversation with Jay and now. He didn't think it had been long but he couldn't be sure. Just because he'd intended to only close his eyes for a few minutes he knew that wouldn't have stopped him from falling asleep and napping for hours. But it didn't feel like much time had passed. The sun was still shining through the window at basically the same angle it had been before and he'd barely been getting into his dream about Justin. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure why he was awake at all.

"Kinney!" A voice bellowed from very close by answering his question. "Kinney, you son of a bitch. Get the fuck up!"

Brian rolled steadily off his bunk and stretched carefully.

"What seems to be the problem?" He asked slowly.

"The warden wants to see you."

Brian raised an eyebrow. The warden? Everyone knew you only saw the warden if you'd fucked up badly but he hadn't done anything. He'd barely said a word to anyone except Jay the entire time he'd been inside. He taken on a few of the guys at pool but in general he'd kept his head down and stayed out of trouble.

"What the fuck?" Jay said from his own bed as he sat up just in time to watch Brian being virtually dragged from the cell.

"Quiet Bradford!" The prison guard snapped and the cell door clanged shut.

::

Brian didn't know what was going on, he just kept his eyes facing the floor and allowed himself to be dragged, tripping and stumbling, up numerous flights of stairs until the guard stopped so abruptly, Brian almost fell into the back of him.

"You trying it on you fucking fag?" The guard roared.

"With you?" Brian scorned. "Not in this lifetime." Brian regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth and he regretted them even more as he felt the long guard's baton strike him hard in the ribs.

"Fuck," he gasped, doubling over immediately and clutching at his side. "Shit!" If he didn't know any better he'd be bitching about broken ribs but he knew they weren't broken and he knew moaning about him would probably only earn him another whack.

"Stand up straight, Kinney," the guard ordered. Brian did his best to obey, wincing as he stretched out his injured side carefully. "Right, in you go." He opened the door and as good as threw Brian into the tiny warden's office.

Brian had no idea what he'd been expecting to find in the room but it certainly wasn't this. The warden, who turned out to be a tiny elderly gentleman with a huge cigar and a cowboy hat, actually smiled at him.

"Ah, Kinney. Good to see you, take a seat," he gestured to an empty seat next to a woman in a trouser suit, who had short dark hair and a briefcase in her hands. Next to her was Stockwell. Chief Stockwell, the man who'd lied and plotted and done everything in his power to make the murder of Jason Kemp go away. The man who'd given the order to let Justin die.

Brian gritted his teeth and twisted his hands together to stop from strangling the man.

"Er, I'll stand … thanks," Brian said warily, his eyes fixed on Stockwell's head. Just one reason, one tiny reason to attack him and he would, like an untrained Rottweiler. It would be worth life imprisonment, he decided, just to take a pop at that smug, square jaw.

"Fair enough," the warden shrugged. He was used to dealing with awkward prisoners and what the hell did he care if Kinney wanted to stand or sit. "Kinney, I'd like you to meet Melanie Marcus, she'll be your lawyer in your upcoming court case."

"Mr Kinney," Melanie held out her hand and he shook it partly out of shock and partly because he was kind of auto-pilot, too busy willing Stockwell dead to take any notice of her at all.

"And I'm sure you know, this fine gentleman," he indicated Stockwell, "is Police Chief Jim Stockwell."

"Good to see you Kinney," Stockwell said cheerily. Brian just stared back at him. He wasn't a liar. He wasn't going to return the compliment or shake his hand or any other niceties that could be expected of him.

"Er, yes, well," the warden continued, trying to ignore the obvious hatred that seemed to ooze from Brian Kinney's pores, "Jim has some very exciting news for you, don't you Jim?"

"Sure do," the chief nodded, looking towards Brian. "Kinney," he said calmly. "I'm hoping you and I can make some kind of a deal."

::

The mood was celebratory. Debbie had even decorated the house a little. She brought out the good china and opened a bottle of fizzy wine. Yes, they were splashing out tonight.

"This is brilliant," Emmett grinned, taking a sip of faux-champagne. He'd already polished off three glasses and was more than a little tipsy.

"So you keep saying," Ted frowned, who was remaining stone cold sober. He wasn't going to be caught out if they suddenly needed to drive somewhere.

"But do you know what would make it more brilliant?" Emmett asked, slinging an arm around his friend's shoulder and tapping his nose with his index finger in a sloppy, drunken way.

"If you weren't hanging off me like a child on monkey bars?" Ted suggested, causing Justin to laugh a little from his place at the head of the table. After all, it had been him who had found Hunter and persuaded him to talk, so, naturally, he was the guest of honour.

"No," Emmett laughed, shaking his head a little more than necessary. "Music. Maybe some Madonna or Cher." Then loudly he asked, "Debbie … where do you keep the CD's?"

"In the cupboard under the CD player," she called, hunting through the cupboard for the fucking cheese grater, she was always losing the damn thing. She finally located it in a draw she barely ever used just as Emmett cranked up the volume to 'Vogue' and started to 'strike a pose' all around the sitting room.

Justin laughed to the point of tears as each and every pose became more and more ridiculous.

"Swan," Emmett called, trying to stretch his neck out as far as it would go. "Fairy," he said, flapping his wings a little and kicking one leg up to the side. "Statue of Liberty," he announced, doing a perfect impression of the statue. "You know," he said, when he'd got bored of holding his position. "I think I'm a lot like her in many ways."

"Because you're green?" Ted scorned.

"No."

"You wear a dress with sandals?" Justin tried.

"No," Emmett frowned.

"Then how?" Ted asked.

"Well," Emmett smiled smugly, "she wears a crown so she's clearly a queen." Ted had to agree that that was indeed a similarity. "She lives on Liberty Island, I live on Liberty Avenue. And," Emmett grinned proudly, "she had the largest flame of anyone for miles around." Ted smiled a little as his flamboyant friend did a bit of a twirl to demonstrate his point.

"Well," Ted conceded, "you do certainly have that in common."

"I know," Emmett grinned, picking up his glass of fizzy wine and taking a sip before shaking his hips and dancing all over again.

Justin just watched the display as he worked his way slowly through his first glass of the disgusting fizzy drink. He'd much rather have had a beer. This was too sweet, and too bubbly and quite frankly too Emmett for his taste buds to handle.

"Sunshine," Deb called from the kitchen, "do you want two pieces of meat or one?"

"One please," he said and she brought over his plate, setting it down carefully in front of him.

"The marinara sauce is in the centre of the table," she pointed to a big china tub with a silver serving spoon sticking out the top. "You help yourself," then she pinched his cheeks with her fingers, "my clever, brave solider." She placed a kiss on his cheek and went back to serving up the rest of the meals. She'd been doing this all day since Hunter had given his statement. He felt like she was treating him like someone who was both a baby and a war hero and it was strange and a little unnerving. But it sure beat general fussing and asking him if he was okay every four seconds.

"You know," Deb said when she'd finally sat down to tuck into her own food after making sure everyone else was okay, "I'm feeling really positive about this now. Hunter's made a statement. He's going to stand up in court and testify and this Stockwell won't have one goddamn leg to stand on. Finally, the little guys are going to win," she grinned. "And all thanks to Sunshine here." She reached over and squeezed his hand tightly. "If I was your mother, I'd be so proud."

Justin just gave her a sad smile. Every time he thought of his mom he was hit by a sickening realisation that she still thought he was dead. She'd even buried Jason Kemp's body believing it was Justin's. That was the worst thing that had come out of this, the fact the police and let his own mother bury someone else believing it was her own son.

"Hey," Deb warned him, "no long faces. Besides, you'll be able to see her soon and explain just what happened."

"Yeah," Justin nodded. "You're right. It's all going to be over soon. This is a time for celebration."

"Amen to that," Emmett grinned, raising his glass and downing the contents before holding his arm out for another.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" scolded Ted.

"Teddy," the queen whined. "I'm celebrating. I'm going to get some more fizzy wine. Anybody want some?" He looked around the table but they all declined. "Oh well," he shrugged, "more for me."

He got up slightly clumsily from his chair and walked drunkenly toward the kitchen and the bottle of faux-champagne. He managed to pour the drink like a pro despite his shaky walk and balance, his hand was as steady as ever. He was just about to take a drink when the doorbell shrilled through the air and didn't stop. It kept ringing and ringing and ringing and there was knocking at the door too. It was constant noise like someone in a rush or perhaps with a fetish for loud noises.

"Someone's in a hurry," Debbie frowned. "Emmett, honey, as you're up, can you go and get the door?"

Emmett nodded and half-danced, half-fell over towards the door. He pulled back the curtain to see who it was and the sight of the man waving casually back at him through the glass made him sober up immediately. "Shit," he whispered under his breath. He didn't believe it. It couldn't be. Could it? Well, there was only one way to find out. He unlatched the door and swung it open.

"Who is it, Em?" Debbie called, as Emmett came face to face with the man himself; Brian Kinney. His hair perfectly kept, eyes dark and smouldering, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a leather jacket. No one would ever guess he'd just finished a stint in prison.

"Jesus Christ," Emmett whispered.

"Not quite," Brian smirked, "but close enough." Then peering over Emmett's shoulder he asked, "where is he?"

"K-kitchen," Emmett stammered, gawping and pointing a shaky finger in the right direction.

Brian just nodded and without another word strolled into the kitchen. Everybody turned to look at him, three jaws dropped in amazement and confusion. Each person was burning with questions but there would be time for that later, for now, there was only one thing on Brian's mind. He walked towards Justin, grabbed his bicep firmly and said; "come on."

Justin jumped up immediately and allowed himself to be dragged up the stairs by the older man, a wide grin on his face as they disappeared out of sight from the others.

"Well that was subtle," Deb commented, taking Justin's plate and wrapping the food for him, he wouldn't be needing it for a while.

"How the hell did he get out?" Ted asked, looking from Emmett to Debbie.

Debbie just looked to the ceiling, as the sound of a door slamming suggested they'd entered Brian's old room.

"I guess we'll find out in half an hour," she shrugged.

"Please," Ted scoffed. "They haven't seen each other in six weeks. You'll have to wait until at least tomorrow morning."


	22. Chapter 20

The smell of pancakes wafted through the house, up the stairs, under the door and straight up Justin Taylor's nose. He was awake the second his brain registered the smell. Well, he was starving, he'd missed dinner last night. He looked to the man who was still asleep next to him. Oh well, he wouldn't complain about that. Still, that didn't stop his stomach pulling and tugging at his sides in protest. He slid out of the sheets carefully and pulled on a pair of shorts and pants. His eyes fixed on Brian the whole time. Just being able to see him, knowing he could touch him, kiss him, hold him was amazing. Justin had been beginning to fear he'd actually never see the other man again but now, here he was. Right with him … always.

He still had no idea how Brian had got out of prison, there hadn't been a lot of time for talking last night. He didn't know if it was legitimate or if Brian had escaped. Was Justin harbouring a criminal? Well, what the fuck did he care? He'd harbour Brian all day, all night and all the times in-between. He sighed happily. He couldn't believe how well everything was turning out. Brian was here. Hunter would testify. Rikert would be charged and Stockwell would be on trial too. Yes, it was perfect.

Suddenly a loud banging at the door distracted Justin from his general love of life.

"Sunshine, Brian. Stop fucking and come get some breakfast, will you? Everyone's waiting."

"Argh," Brian groaned burying his face in his pillow. "I hate this fucking house," he snarled, digging his knuckles into his eyes to try and dislodge some of the sleep from his eyes. "Never a moments rest."

"It's pancakes," Justin shrugged.

"Well, I guess it beats prison food," he sighed, rolling out of bed and pulling on his clothes. "God it's weird being out."

"I still can't believe you're here."

"I still can't believe I can walk more than four paces without hitting cinderblock wall," Brian grinned. Then he grabbed the waistband of Justin's pants and dragged him towards him until they were pinned together, Brian's arms holding the younger man firmly against him. "I'm glad you're okay," he whispered, running one hand through Justin's blonde hair. "I was so fucking scared when I saw them shutting the door on you in the attic." There were tears in his eyes but neither man mentioned them. "I thought there was no way you'd be able to survive…" he trailed off. He couldn't think about that anymore. He couldn't think about Michael or the baseball bat or anything else. He had to let it go or who knew what he'd do.

"I nearly didn't," Justin breathed. "But I'm okay now."

"Except for your hand," Brian frowned, taking Justin's injured hand in his own and massaging it lightly.

"It's not so bad," Justin insisted. "It just gets tired sometimes, that's all."

Brian nodded steadily. He felt guilty. He felt responsible. If he hadn't gotten involved in Justin's life maybe he'd never have had his head bashed in. Maybe he'd still be in school, in college studying art or business. Maybe it wouldn't be totally fucked up and the world wouldn't think he was dead.

"Come on," Justin's voice broke though his thoughts. "Let's go downstairs. I'm starving."

::

"About fucking time," Deb glared at them as they sauntered down the stairs and into the kitchen area. Brian had his hand on the small of Justin's back as he guided them to the two available seats. There was still an awkwardness about the table. Everyone had so much to say and ask but no one knew where to begin so Justin just smiled and took the initiative.

"Mmmm," he grinned as he looked at the four plates piled high with hundreds of pancakes. "This looks delicious, Deb."

"Thanks sweetie," Deb patted Justin's head like a dog and went to retrieve the chocolate, raspberry and strawberry sauces. Then placing the jugs on the table she announced, "help yourselves boys."

Justin took about ten pancakes off the one stack and Brian just shot him a look of utter disgust. "Do you know how many carbs are in those?"

Justin just shrugged and poured chocolate sauce all over the top. Brian actually shuddered at the site of it and chose for himself one pancake, which he sprinkled with a little sugar.

They were all eating in relative silence. Everyone kept taking glances at Brian and then looking away sharply before he noticed. It was ridiculous and uncomfortable, so Brian took a sip of the coffee Deb had made them and said, "is _anyone_ going to ask me what I'm doing here?"

Justin smirked but the others just looked thankful that it had finally been brought up.

"A-actually," Emmett stammered a little. "I'd be interested to hear that tale if you wanted to tell us."

Brian nodded a little. "I see," he said slowly. Then he smirked. "I didn't escape, if that's what you think." Debbie actually seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at that despite sending him a file in a tuna casserole. "I was released on 'own recognizance'," he looked around at the blank expressions. "It's like bail but the cops cover the cost," he explained and then cut off some more pancake and put it in his mouth. He knew there would be more questions but it was too much fun to watch all their confused little faces to ruin it by explaining everything straight away.

"But you're charged with murder," Ted frowned. "They never give bail to potential murderers."

"Stockwell came to the prison and granted me with it himself," Brian shrugged. He really was enjoying dragging each and every emotion from his friends around him as he released just titbitsof information.

"Stockwell?" Debbie cried, "what was that asshole doing there?"

"Trying to save his ass. Or at least his friends. I'm assuming you have heard of him, Kenneth Rikert." He snapped the 't' at the end of the word and took another sip of coffee. The confusion on Debbie and in particular Emmett's face was a beautiful thing.

"Rikert, the guy who killed that Jason kid?" Ted said slowly, trying to piece together what had happened.

"The very same," Brian confirmed. "But also, Kenneth Rikert, good friend of Police Chief Jim Stockwell … apparently."

"So they really did cover up the murder?" Ted breathed.

"Yes," Brian smiled. "And then they tried to pin the blame on me except somehow, thanks to some undercover sleuths," he looked around the table pointedly, "Rikert's been arrested and Stockwell's shitting his pants." He chuckled a little as he remembered the way the Chief had practically begged him to help him out. "Turns out, the police are pretty sure it all came from my friends, they called you friends," he added quickly, "I still think of you as annoying shits that won't leave me alone."

"Love you too, Bri," Ted scorned.

And Brian just smirked a little. "Anyway, the police think you had something to do with Rikert's arrest. So they offered me a deal." Justin's head snapped around immediately. The last time someone had done a deal with the police, Justin had wound up on the floor with a bat-shaped dent in his skull.

"What was it?" He asked.

"I get given bail. The charges for murder are dropped and the kidnapping charges lessoned. And I get off with a few thousand hours of community service."

"And what do you have to do?" Justin asked, looking around anxiously as though expecting to see the police come bursting through the door at any second.

"Huh?" Brian looked confused. "Oh. I just have to get you to stop pushing this Rikert thing and get the witness not to testify. So, er, yeah." He looked around the table semi-seriously, "knock it off."

The mood around the table was immediately subdued. That was it then. Brian would stop Hunter giving evidence so he could get off virtually scot-free and Rikert and Stockwell could continue their little game of corruptions, without anymore hassle. Wins all around, except for the poor kid Rikert murdered and for Justin and for the truth.

"I don't fucking believe it," Justin snapped eventually, when it was obvious no one else was going to say anything. He got up abruptly and took his plate to the kitchen, he couldn't bear to be sitting next to the older man for a second longer.

"Hey," Brian protested. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Wrong with _me_? What's wrong with _you_?" Justin seethed. "We were so close to fixing everything. The police department was going to be shown up for what they were. Justice was going to be done."

"I don't give a shit about justice," Brian answered calmly. "All I care about is getting my ass out of prison long enough for me to hitch to Mexico with some old friends and get a one way ticket to Madagascar."

"Madagascar," Deb asked. "What the fuck is there?"

"Beautiful seas, white beaches, no extradition treaty with the US and no laws to castrate homosexuals." He noted the stunned faces around him. "Number 3 and 4 are the main reasons," he clarified, as though this needed clarifying. "Number one and two are just bonuses. I've already bought the house, you should see it. Six bedrooms with a jetty and a speed boat on its own little island just off the mainland. I basically own a tiny country." He grinned but no one else seemed to be finding this amusing or even exciting. "I might call it Kinney Island or Kinnetik or…"

"So you're just running away?" Justin interrupted in disbelief. He was so angry and confused he was almost in tears.

"Not running away," Brian said firmly. "Moving on to better things."

He could feel the disapproval radiating off everyone in the room. He could feel Emmett's frustration burning at his side, he could feel Ted and Debbie's disbelief boring into his skull but none of that compared to the look of silent disappointment in Justin's eyes. Brian knew he was letting him down badly but that wasn't his fault. The kid had built him up to be something more than he actually was. He wasn't a hero, like Justin seemed to think, he was a selfish, thieving, son of a bitch and he'd never claimed to anything more. Just because Ted, Emmett and Debbie had decided to turn detective all in the name of finding the truth, didn't mean he had to.

"Justin, look," he began and the kid fixed him with that horrible, disapproving expression and Brian felt his stomach clench. He felt bad but there wasn't anything he could do. He wished he could be the man Justin wanted and expected and perhaps even deserved but he wasn't that man. "I've only ever been interested in keeping my ass out of prison. And now I've been there once, I don't wanna go back there again. Especially not for life and not for a crime I didn't commit."

"That wouldn't happen," Justin replied steadily. "Hunter's going to give evidence and Rikert will be arrested."

"If Hunter gives evidence then I won't have to worry about prison because it'll be my life they'll be after," Brian said slowly. Then he shrugged a little. "I just can't do it. I can't care about a truth and a justice I've spent most of my life trying to avoid and destroy." He paused, taking a step towards Justin. "I have to go," he whispered, urging the kid to understand.

Justin just scratched the back of his neck and looked at the floor. He looked smaller than he ever had before, confused and let down and upset but when he spoke he sounded very logical and somewhat bitter.

"Fine," he said. "You go. You do whatever it is you feel you have to do."

Brian nodded a little, thankful in some small way that Justin seemed to understand and then he added the last sentence that shattered Brian's heart.

"But I'm gonna stay here and do what's right."

Brian just stared for a moment. He pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger, fighting off a headache that was quickly pounding behind his eyes. Why did this have to be so hard? Why did he have to feel so much for this kid? Why did he have to love him? It had been so easy before Justin. He would have had no problem at all leaving everyone he knew and escaping to a new, better life. But now, the thought of never seeing Justin again was making him feel sick but he couldn't risk going back inside. Not again. He had a way out. He'd already set it up with Marv and Ignacio. They were going to smuggle him over the border to Mexico and he was going to catch a plane from there. It was sorted, it was easy. And yes, he probably should stay, staying would be the right thing. But he couldn't do it … not for justice, not for the truth, not even for Justin.

"I've got to pack my stuff," Brian said slowly. "I'm leaving soon."

As he reached the bottom of the stairs the doorbell rang. He went to answer it, half expecting it to be Marv. He actually opened the door to reveal a podgy balding middle-aged man, who seemed just as surprised to see Brian and Brian was to see him.

"Kinney?" He said slowly.

"Who the fuck are you?" He frowned. He was having to get used to the fact that everyone knew his name. It was a little unnerving to say the least.

"Horvath, Carl Horvath," the man introduced himself. "Is Debbie in?"

Brian nodded and jabbed a thumb in the direction off the kitchen but there was no need. As soon as Debbie and the others had heard the name of their visitor they'd all piled into the living room.

"What's happened?" Debbie asked anxiously. "Is it Michael? Is he okay?"

"No, it's not Michael."

"What a shame," Brian muttered, earning himself such an evil look from Debbie he actually thought he might have died a little with the power of it.

"Then, who?" Emmett asked.

"Or what?" Ted added.

"It's the kid," Horvath sighed heavily.

"Hunter?" Justin frowned. "Is he alright?"

"He's missing," Horvath said. "No one knows where he is. He just left a message at the station saying he couldn't testify and he retracted his statement. Now, he's disappeared."

Justin immediately glared at Brian, "was this something to do with you?" He demanded.

"I haven't seen the kid," Brian answered honestly. "But now, it looks like I won't have to." And he smiled, actually smiled like Hunter's disappearance was a fucking good thing, before heading up the stairs to pack his stuff.

Justin followed him. He was vaguely aware of Emmett telling him to leave it alone but he couldn't help himself. He couldn't just let Brian run away from all of this without saying something. He didn't knock on the door he just threw it open and stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips in angry wife mode.

Brian hardly glanced in his direction. He just went through his bag that Deb had rescued from the attic and swapped a few clothes for the ones he'd kept in his wardrobe in this house.

"Don't try and stop me," he warned.

"I'm not going to," Justin answered immediately. "I know as well as anyone that when you've got an idea in your head you won't change it for anything … or anybody."

"Good," Brian sighed, taking a pair of jeans from the wardrobe and folding them carefully into his bag.

He would probably be okay for clothes, he decided but he could do with a gun at least until he crossed the Mexican border. He got to his knees and pulled open the bottom draw of a chest. This was the drawer he kept all his memories in growing up. His first football was in there, he'd punctured it with a knife after missing a catch and it hit him in the face. His first soccer ball was in there too. That was in a much better condition, he'd actually been good at that sport. There was a drawing he'd done when he was six years old of his family. It had been just him in front of a house, his dad was probably off bowling or fucking a neighbour or a secretary and his mom at church. When he was fourteen, Michael had found it and Brian had coloured the front door red and drawn in Debbie and Michael. The sketched Brian and Michael were holding hands. Brian just laughed bitterly and scrunched the paper up throwing it over his shoulder. He heard Justin bend down and smooth the picture out but the kid had more sense than to say anything.

Brian kept rummaging about until eventually his hand connected with an old six-shooter. It was old and scratched and it was the first one he'd ever owned. He'd scratched his initials 'BK' into the black handle and they were still there, barely visible just as they'd always been. The gun slid into his hand perfectly, like putting on a pair of socks after strolling round all summer in bare feet. It felt comfortable, like home. He almost stroked it until he realized he had company so he straightened up and slid the gun in his usual place.

"You've got everything, then," Justin commented as Brian began to zip up his bag.

The older man just nodded. He didn't know what to say in this situation. He didn't know what to say in many situations but this was easily the hardest. He sat down on the bed, facing the door and looked up at Justin.

"This is the last time we're ever going to see each other, isn't it?" The kid said firmly. Brian could do nothing but look away and nod mutedly. Even if he'd known what to say, he wasn't sure he'd have been able to say it. The lump in his throat was so big it was painful, restricting his swallowing and his breathing.

"I don't want it to end like this," Justin whispered, and Brian looked up to see a tear rolling down the younger man's face.

"So come with me," he shrugged. He was trying to appear nonchalant but the straining, strangled quality in his voice was giving him away.

"I can't," Justin hiccoughed, trying to hold back the tears. It was becoming more and more difficult by the second.

"I know," Brian sighed, looking at the floor, the duvet, his legs, anywhere but Justin. "Because you're a good person and good people don't run away. They stay … they fight."

"So stay," Justin beseeched, his voice cracking horrible as more tears began to flow down his face. "Fight."

The doorbell buzzed and the heard Emmett open the door. They heard Marv's voice asking for Brian and they looked at each other for what would probably be the last time.

"Stay," Justin whispered again, reaching up a hand to dry his face a little. "You're a good man, I know you are."

Brian shook his head slowly, getting to his feet and pulling the bag over his shoulder. He moved towards the younger man and stopped right in front of him.

"You've always had that wrong about me," he said apologetically. "I'm not a good man." He pressed a chaste kiss to Justin's lips and whispered in his ear, "have a really amazing life. You deserve it."

And with that, he was gone. Justin rushed to Deb's bedroom because it looked over the front of the house. Marv and Ignacio had some kind of massive RV that they were taking with them. He watched Brian get in the back, presumably to get a good hiding place ready for the drive to Mexico and then the engine coughed into life and the RV began to trundle down the road and that was it. Brian was gone. He was leaving the fucking country with no possible way of returning and Justin collapsed to the floor. He curled up like a baby, hugging his knees tight to his chest and cried like he'd never cried before. He felt so lost and so empty. A few hours ago everything had been perfect. They were actually winning. They were going to defeat Stockwell and now…. Now they had nothing. No evidence, no witness, no Brian.

He heard footsteps but he couldn't make anything out, his tears blinding him completely. Then he heard Emmett's voice soothing him and he felt the older man lift him up a little and hold him tightly but nothing would help. He was never going to see Brian again. It was all over, the adventure was done and it had gone out with a whimper and not with a bang. Now, all Justin could see was an endless ocean of nothingness. He was lost, totally and utterly and he had no idea what to do about it.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this fic so far ... I know it's long but I promise the end is in sight! =D  
Hope you're still enjoying the ride!**

**Thanks for reading!  
Xx**


	23. Chapter 21

**This chapter's a bit of a filler but it had to be included...**

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* * *

**

Justin felt like shit. He'd been curled up on the sofa all afternoon, Emmett one side, Deb the other, and they were sharing a tub of ice cream with three large spoons, watching a marathon of girly rom-coms and bitching about men incessantly.

"They're bastards," Emmett said sucking a large dollop of ice cream off his spoon. "Only after one thing and then they're gone."

"Too right," Debbie agreed. "They never want a conversation or a commitment."

"If I were a girl," Emmett said decidedly, "I'd be a lesbian." Then after some thought he added, "if I didn't, you know, have to eat pussy," he shuddered dramatically and in any other circumstance, Justin thought he would probably have laughed. But he just sat watching some generic blonde girl fall into the arms of some generic brunet with perfect pecs. It was the same story over and over with just the tiniest of changes. Boy meets girl, girl loves boy, boy loves girl; they get married and live happily ever after.

Oh to be a hetero … or a hero in a Hollywood rom-com, life was so easy for them. He sighed, scooped up some more ice cream and ate it dejectedly. It wasn't helping. He let the spoon fall back into the tub with a splat and allowed his head to loll back, onto Emmett's shoulder. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the fact Brian had left or how all this girly ice-cream and man-hating was driving him mad. He just needed to be up and doing something, something productive, like looking for Hunter.

"Sweetie," Emmett said carefully, noting the pained expression on his young friend's face. "He's not worth it. Honestly."

"No," agreed Debbie. "He's just a selfish asshole, who never cared about anyone but himself."

"That's not true," Justin shook his head slowly. "He cared about Michael. He cared about you too, Deb. And you Em. He thought Ted was some kind of genius," he smiled as he remembered the way Brian used to praise Ted whenever the man was out of ear shot. "He helped his friend Marv out so that he could live the fairytale happily-ever-after with his boyfriend and god knows how many other people he looked out for on the way … and me," he whispered, staring at something on the wall that no one else could see. "He loved me."

Justin didn't miss the sceptical look that Emmett and Debbie shared. He was miserable, not blind. He didn't miss the forced, lying tone in Debbie's voice as she squeezed his hand and placated him.

"Of course he did, baby," she soothed.

Justin just squeezed his eyes tight. She really thought that after everything that had happened Brian had only been tagging him along because he was an easy fuck. Had she not seen the way he was with him in the attic? The way he'd said 'I love you' the night he'd been arrested. The way he'd begged Justin to promise him he'd stay safe, the way he'd looked and said 'I love you' last night when they'd made love. The pain in his eyes when he'd had to say his final goodbye. And then he realized that 'no', Debbie hadn't seen any of that. No one had. Brian hadn't let anyone know how he felt about Justin except Justin himself and now he had to cling on to that truth with both hands because no one around him was going to reassure him.

Just then, happy music coming from the television signaled the end of the film and brought Justin with a thud back to the 'getting-over-Brian-party' that he seemed to be stuck in at the moment.

"Ooo," Emmett clapped his hands together as he picked up the next DVD. "10 Things I Hate About You," he smiled, "this will cheer you up."

Justin doubted that very much but he forced a smile and Emmett beamed back at him, going over to the TV to change the movies over.

"Christ," Ted groaned as he came down the stairs for the first time since Emmett and Debbie had sprung this movie-marathon on Justin after lunch. "Is this still going on?"

"Teddy," Emmett scolded, putting his hands over Justin's ears as though he were a particularly sensitive child. "We're cheering up Justin, no negativity." He removed his hands from Justin and smiled encouragingly at him. "You're feeling better already, aren't you sweetie?"

"Sure," Justin nodded slightly but he didn't sound convincing even in his own ears but in Emmett's ears, he must have sounded fine.

"See," the queen beamed. "It's helping." Then to Ted, he added, "why don't you join us?"

"No … thank you," the older man declined politely. "I only came down here to ask if we could put the news on for a few minutes. I want to know what they're saying about Brian's release."

"Ted," Emmett frowned immediately and the older man looked naturally confused. "We're not saying his name."

"What? Why?" He asked, and then following Emmett's completely unsubtle point to the youngest member of the family, he said, "oh … sorry, Justin."

"It's okay, honestly." And that was the first honest thing Justin had said for a while. "Have they mentioned the case at all yet today?"

"Only on the internet," Ted answered, flicking the smaller kitchen television on. "They said that Brian's been released following the discovery of some important evidence."

"Like the fact I'm still alive," Justin smiled a little.

"Mm," Ted frowned as the headlines ran across the bottom of the screen. He pointed to the one about Brian. "Not exactly," he sighed.

Justin gasped as the words '_Brian Kinney released on bail as Police searching for evidence in the OUTlaws hideout in West Virginia find suicide note in the boy's writing_' rolled across the bottom of the screen. The reporter went on to explain that the suicide note had meant the date of Brian's trial was being swapped with another undisclosed trial.

"That'll be Rikert's" Ted explained. Then noting the pained expression on the kid's face, he asked anxiously, "you okay?" He wasn't able to cope with queen outs or fits of tears. He'd probably just panic and throw tissues at the kid until it stopped.

"I'm okay," Justin answered quietly. Ted knew he wasn't okay but if Justin wanted to pretend then the least he could do was pretend too. "I mean," Justin continued, "Brian said they were going to drop the murder charges. I guess this was the only way." Justin shrugged and forced a bit of a smile.

"I guess so," Ted nodded. He looked at the younger man and finally found himself trying to offer words of comfort. He didn't know why. Maybe because he actually sort of liked the kid, or perhaps because Justin just looked so miserable or perhaps because it just seemed like the right thing to do.

"He did love you, you know," he said confidently.

Justin smiled a little. "Yeah," he asked. "How can you tell?" He almost laughed. Then he sighed heavily and sat in the dining chair next to Ted. "Debbie and Emmett think it was all in my head. I mean, they haven't said it but … I can tell."

"Well, Debbie didn't see you together at the house and Emmett loves a drama," Ted smiled fondly and Justin couldn't help smile too. "But you knew," he continued firmly. "And Michael knew, that's why he acted the way he did." Justin just nodded mutedly. He was sure Ted was right, at least he thought he was sure. "And," the older man added, "he wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it."

Justin's eyes shot up to meet the older man's; they were squinting a little with confusion. "How do you know he said it?"

"Last night," Ted answered scrunching his face up a little. "I'm in the room next to you and the walls are kind of thin. He said it loud enough for both of us."

Justin laughed. Actually laughed and he sort of felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders if only a little.

"I guess you're right," Justin agreed

"This is just his way," Ted nodded, "whenever anything big happens, whenever there's something crucial or important, he pulls the elusive Brian Kinney act and disappears. It doesn't mean he doesn't love you and it doesn't mean he won't come back."

"Well, if he does come back he'll end up in prison," Justin sighed. "I don't want that. I'd rather know he's in Madagascar fucking lots of beautiful men on the beach and … fighting off a lemur that's trying to steal his $200 Prada shoes," he smiled.

Ted chuckled a little and patted the younger man clumsily on the back, "I'm sure he'd rather be fucking you," he said and Justin smirked a little. Suddenly, Justin flung his arms around the older man's neck. Ted looked more than a little confused by the gesture and patted Justin somewhat awkwardly on the back.

"Now," the kid said when he'd pulled back. "We need to find Hunter. We have a week until Rikert's trial."

Finally, he thought, something to take his mind off Brian. Now, he finally felt like he was going to make steps towards the justice Jason Kemp and he himself, deserved.

::

A week, that was all they had to relocate Hunter and persuade him to stand up in court. They all split up, searching all over Pittsburgh and then the neighbouring cities. Ted even drove the entire length of Pennsylvania trying to locate the boy but no one had seen him. It was totally hopeless like looking for a specific piece of hay in a haystack.

Each day they all came back disappointed and dejected, they ate some dinner, fell into bed and start the gruelling process all over again (you might want to put in here 'the next day'). It was on the third day that Justin decided to take the Corvette and drive back to Carnegie Mellon to speak to Professor Bruckner. He hid at the back of the room and listened again to three people arguing about how to bridge gaps with heteros. Only this time, Hunter had been replaced by the pink-haired lesbian and Ben seemed even less in control than the first time. It would have been amusing if Justin hadn't been desperate to get out of there and find Hunter. Ben, of course, recognized Justin's disguise and purposely hung about after the lecture to wait for him. But yet again, it was a disappointing dead-end. Ben hadn't seen Hunter since he'd taken him home from Deb's.

"Oh well, thanks anyway," Justin sighed but as he reached the door, Ben said something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

"Michael's sorry you know."

Justin almost laughed at the absurdity of the comment. He turned back to look at the other man. "For getting Brian arrested or for nearly killing me?"

"He's a changed man," Ben insisted. "He was in a bad place then, but he's come through it now. He writes to me all the time and all he ever says is how sorry he is about what happened."

Justin's jaw locked and he shook his head angrily. "He can be as sorry as he wants. I really don't care. Because of him, I have a fucked up hand and Brian is … god knows where."

"I told him I thought that'd you'd forgive him," Ben said steadily.

"Well, you shouldn't make promises that I can't keep," Justin snarled and he stormed out of the room in absolute fury.

He was so angry that he was actually shaking. Forgive Michael. He'd never forgive Michael. Never. How could Ben even expect that? He was so angry he couldn't drive for a long time. His cramping up hand and his headache throbbing behind his eyes had paralyzed him and left him sitting in the car with his head on the steering wheel wishing that everything would just go back to how it was when they were in the house. It wasn't until some grumpy old woman banged on the window to ask him what the hell he was doing that he finally decided to make the trip back to Debbie's

He ended up getting back a lot later than he'd expected and Debbie was beside herself with worry but apart from that it had turned out to be yet another dissatisfying day with no clues as to where Hunter could be.

::

The day before the trial, Horvath turned up at the house with the lawyer who'd taken the case. Melanie Marcus, who had been the appointed lawyer in the Brian Kinney case, had also taken on this case not only because they were linked but because she was desperate to be involved in one of those landmark, corruption of the police cases. She was ambitious; she wanted her name to be next to cases that would be referred to in years to come.

She'd introduced herself to the men and then she smiled at Justin.

"So," she'd said casually, "you're not dead."

"Not yet," Justin smiled. "Though it seems like plenty of people wish that wasn't the case."

"Mm," she nodded, pulling some papers from her briefcase, "I'm sure it feels like that sometimes. I don't really have to brief you too much," she said. "The mere fact that you're alive is going to be a kick in the teeth for Rikert's lawyer who's still claiming that you're buried." Then she frowned and read through the notes. She looked up hopefully, "you didn't see Rikert do anything suspicious, did you?" Justin told her no and she almost looked like she was going to burst into tears of frustration.

"I don't know how the hell they expect me to win this when my witness disappears at the last second," she groaned but she remained optimistic generally as she briefed him on the questions she was going to be asking. "Just be honest" was her advice. She told them all that with the truth, she thought that every chance of causing enough of an uproar to have Rikert and Stockwell fired if nothing else but Justin couldn't help feel that wasn't enough.

That night had felt like the last supper. Debbie had cooked lots of food but nearly all of it had gone into Tupperware to be reheated for another day. No one had been stupid enough to miss Ms. Marcus' anxious expression as she read through her notes. The whole trial and her whole case was pretty much built around Hunter's statement and now he'd gone it was just a whole load of conspiracy theories with a whole lack of evidence.

"Big day tomorrow," Deb had said trying to lift the mood but she was greeted with nothing more than the odd nod of a head. So she tried again, "everyone's going to know you're still alive Justin. You might get to see your mother. That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Justin nodded mutedly. He hadn't even thought about seeing his mother. That felt like the smallest detail in the world compared to everything else that could happen tomorrow.

"Ms. Marcus seemed like she knew what she was talking about though, huh?" Debbie tried yet again to spark a conversation. "All that talk about past cases and testimonies and evidence; that all sounded positive."

"Not really," Ted frowned. "She said she couldn't find many past cases and the evidence was limited." He took a sip of his beer and sighed. "We may as well start packing for prison."

"Or Madagascar," Emmett suggested. "I hear it's lovely this time of year."

Justin sniffed a little and Emmett quickly apologized. Justin just shook his head. "It's Madagascar Em, not death. I'm okay that he's gone, honestly." Then he took a sip of beer and slammed the bottle on the table. "Actually," he growled, "I'm not okay with it. I'm so fucking angry with him. I just know that he'd have known where to look for Hunter. And he could have told everyone what Stockwell told him about the deal and…." He let out a frustrated roar and slammed his hand on the table. "Shit," he breathed. Then to everyone, "sorry. I guess I'm just a bit worked up about tomorrow."

"That's probably it," Debbie agreed.

"I might just take a Xanax and go to bed," he smiled. "I'll see you all in the morning."

"Night, baby," Emmett smiled, as the younger man kissed him on the cheek before disappearing up the stairs.

"Poor kid," Emmett sighed. "To have all this on your shoulders at only nineteen."

"He'll be okay," Debbie said confidently. "He's a strong boy. Now, I think maybe it's time we were all making our way to bed. We've all got a big day tomorrow."

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**Don't forget to review! =D xx**


	24. Chapter 22

**Update ... because five days is too long without one! It's because I'm in turmoil (or I can't make up my mind) about the ending. But I think I've decided now! WOO HOO!**

**Hope you enjoy….**

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Justin felt like he'd hardly slept last night. It was one of those nights where you toss and turn for hours and, when you finally manage to get to sleep, your alarm clock immediately wakes you up. He'd pulled on his suit in autopilot mode. He'd shovelled a spoonful or two of cereal into his mouth but food was making his already delicate stomach even more nauseous. He pulled on his shoes and straightened his hair trying hard to ignore the concerned expressions the other kept shooting at him.

He didn't want to have to deal with their sympathy again. He'd had enough of it over the last few weeks. He just wanted to get this day over with so he could put this part of his life behind him and get on with the rest of his life. Debbie was right, maybe when this was all over he could go back and live with his mom or perhaps he could sell the Corvette and put a down payment on a place of his own. There was a future after this trial for him, it just probably wouldn't involve Emmett, Ted or Debbie and it certainly wouldn't involve Brian. His stomach twisted painfully and he wasn't sure if it was nerves or because he missed Brian so much it physically pained him when he thought about it for too long.

::

The car pulled up outside the courthouse causing a huge amount of excitement in the media. Emmett got out first, followed by Debbie and then it was Justin's turn. The camera flashes went crazy and shouts of; "is that him?" "But it can't be." "Did he have a twin?" And frantic phone calls were being made to research teams as the reporters tried to work out how in the hell Justin Taylor could be at the courthouse after having died months ago.

Suddenly a red microphone was shoved under Justin's nose.

"Julie Carple, channel 6 news." the woman holding the mic introduced herself. "Are you Justin Taylor?" Justin just stared at the microphone not sure how exactly to respond. Of course he was Justin Taylor but did he really have to tell some woman with a microphone, who was only after a story. Another mic quickly joined the first one and a man asked the same question.

Justin closed his eyes, wishing everyone would just leave him alone. Luckily, at that moment, he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders and he heard Emmett's voice say, "no comment," before whisking him through other microphones, journalists and cameras and inside the building.

"Vultures," growled Debbie as they stepped inside the sanctity of the building. "That's what they are."

But Justin wasn't really listening, it was all he could do to stop himself from vomiting. It had been so stupid. So unrealistic but for a second, when Emmett had first put his hands on Justin's shoulders, he'd actually believed it had been Brian coming in to save him. He hated himself for still holding on to that hope when he knew there was no way. It had been a week. By now, Brian was probably sunning himself on a deckchair on his personal beach and Justin wondered if he'd even thought about him once.

"I need the restroom," he said to Emmett before disappearing into the nearby bathroom. He just needed a moment to calm down and gather his thoughts. He splashed some water on his face and took lots of deep breaths. He'd thought he'd be okay. He'd thought he'd be able to keep the sick feeling in his stomach in check for long enough to stand up in the stand and be asked if he was dead but now he wasn't sure.

He looked up and found his own reflection staring back at him. He looked pale and shaken but he also had a hidden strength about him. Justin just looked at the man ahead of him and couldn't believe how old and mature he was now. How much he'd aged in these last few months. He wasn't the same person he'd been when he first met Brian. He was stronger now, strong enough to survive without him. He looked at himself in the mirror and began to give himself a little internal pep-talk.

"You can do this," he whispered out loud, psyching himself up with determined glares into his own reflection's eyes. "Come on. You can do this."

It wasn't long before Emmett came to get him and told him they were about to begin. Justin nodded his head and followed his friend into the courtroom. It was much bigger than he'd expected and it was exactly like the ones he'd seen on TV. They had to walk past the nosey public and press who erupted with excited chatter when it was revealed that the rumours Justin Taylor was alive were proved to be true.

"Come on," Emmett encouraged, guiding Justin gently to the front bench on the right, next to Debbie and Ted and behind Ms Marcus and Horvath. There was a group of twelve members of the jury on the right, the witness stand was almost directly ahead of him and to his left was another lawyer in a cheap suit and next to him a somewhat unattractive bald man with a permanent sneer; that could only be Rikert.

Suddenly Melanie turned around to him.

"No luck finding Hunter?" she asked hopefully. Justin just shook his hand solemnly.

"Okay," she sighed. "I'm going to get you up first then. You ready?"

Justin nodded but he couldn't speak. His mouth was dry and the nervous clenching

around his gut was squeezing so tight he thought he'd vomit. His legs shook and he could sense the sneaky photos being taken of him and people whispering about him. He was grateful when the bailiff called order.

"Everyone please stand for the Honourable Judge Fyres."

They all got to their feet and a miserable looking woman with greying hair appeared from her chambers. She sat down and everyone else followed suit. She made a little speech about how she was disappointed to see an officer of the law appearing before her and then called on Ms Marcus to begin.

Ms Marcus made a speech the jury explaining all about how Rikert and Stockwell covered up the murder of Jason Kemp by deliberately misidentifying the boy's body as Justin Taylor and pinning the blame on known criminal Brian Kinney.

Justin gasped a little when he heard Brian's name but Emmett reached across and squeezed his hand tight.

Ms Marcus continued that she would prove the murder was covered up because Rikert himself was involved in the death of Jason Kemp. The defending lawyer, Mr Dawes, made his opening statement and made his point of view very clear. Although it appeared that, yes, Rikert and Stockwell did make a mistake in wrongly naming Justin Taylor as the boy in the dumpster, it was a genuine mistake and certainly not to cover up anything. And then the real shock came when he suggested that it was Brian who was responsible for Jason Kemp's death.

"How the hell did he come up with that?" Emmett muttered under his breath.

"They're clutching at straws," Ted whispered back. "They can't possibly have any evidence, they're just picking on an easy target."

"Brian?"

"They'll have had to change their tactics after Justin walked in alive and well."

"But they told Brian that they were doing him a deal," Justin whispered.

"They're corrupt," Ted shrugged. "They're not going to worry about honouring their word if it could land them in prison. Brian would have known that. I guess it's one of the reasons he skipped the country."

"That and he's a goddamn coward," Debbie scowled. "But," she sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter if they do charge him now. They're never gonna find him in Mada-fucking-gascar."

Justin just nodded. He supposed Brian being the other side of the flaming world was a good thing really, even if it felt permanently like the worst thing in his life.

Then it was time to call the first witness and Justin was surprised when Melanie said his mother's name. He watched in stunned amazement as the woman walked past him. Their eyes locked on each other. She was pale as snow and looked as though she'd just seen a ghost, which in a way, he supposed, she had. It didn't take long for Jen's bit to be over, she said the oath, told the court her name and then Melanie asked her to point out her son. Jennifer just looked at Justin and raised a shaky finger and pointed it straight at him, before collapsing into floods of tears.

"My son," she sobbed. "My son." She looked right at him. "You're alive." Justin wanted to run to her but Emmett held him firm.

"You can't," he whispered as Jen walked past back to her seat, dabbing her eyes on a handkerchief. "You're up now." Justin watched her walk back to her seat and couldn't help notice that she was alone. It seemed his dad still hadn't forgiven him for being queer.

Then Melanie called his name and Justin found himself walking very nervously towards the witness stand. He could feel the jury watching him very carefully, they were studying his every move. They expected him to be lying and that made him feel like a criminal. He put his hand on the bible, he repeated after the bailiff and then he sat down heavily in the chair, his fingers fiddling furiously in his lap.

"Try not to be too nervous," Melanie smiled warmly at him. "We'll start with the easy questions. What's your name?"

"Justin Taylor."

"Date of birth?"

"3rd February 1981."

"Tell me Justin, in your own words, what happened to you on the night of the 12th of September last year."

"Er, that was the day my dad came home and er," Justin blushed. He really didn't want to have to tell the whole world this and his goddamn mother was right there watching him, drinking in every word.

"It's okay," Melanie soothed, "take your time and tell me what happened."

"I was with this guy, in my room. We were f-fooling around, doing stuff" he stammered.

"Define fooling around, doing stuff" Melanie said sternly.

"He was sucking me off," Justin blushed, and could feel his mother stare more than he could hear the gasp from the rest of the courtroom. Eventually, he heard the judge ask for silence before Melanie continued.

"So, this 'guy' was performing the act of fellatio on you…"

"Christ," Emmett groaned, "lawyers even make blowjobs sound boring." And Ted hushed him quickly.

"… what happened next?" Melanie asked.

"My dad walked in," Justin explained. "He was really angry and he dragged me downstairs by my hair. My mom was there," he immediately looked at his mother, "with my little sister, Molly, but she took Molly next door to the neighbours house so that she wouldn't be around when my dad lost it completely."

"And is that what happened? Did your dad lose it?"

"He started screaming and yelling," Justin nodded. "And then he pulled a gun on me." There were tears in his eyes. "He said he was going to kill me and he cocked the gun, my mom was trying to stop him but I don't think she'd have managed it."

"What happened next?"

"Erm, Brian came in."

"Mr Kinney?"

Justin nodded.

"And what did he do?"

"He shot my dad in the hand so that he dropped the gun and then he saved me from the house and let me go with him."

"Were there other people involved?"

He nodded. "Michael,"

"Novotny?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, "Emmett Honeycutt and Theodore Schmitt."

"And where did these four men take you?"

"The hideout in West Virginia."

Melanie picked up a picture of the house that had been the location of Justin's happiest memories and showed it to Justin. "Is this the place?"

"Yeah, that's it."

She showed the picture to the jury before leaving it on the judge's bench. "So, Justin, what happened when you were at the house?"

"We just … lived," Justin smiled happily as he remembered his time at the house. "It was the best time of my life," he said honestly.

"And these men didn't make you do anything you didn't want to do?"

"Only the dishes," Justin smiled. Then seriously, he said, "they'd never make me do anything. "They're my friends." He sighed heavily, "more than friends." He caught Emmett's watery smile and Ted's encouraging nod. "They're family."

There was another gasp from the public and press and Emmett turned around to glare at them.

"Do they _have_ to keep doing that? It's not that shocking. We have feelings too, you know" he frowned, only to be shushed by Ted.

As Melanie pointed out that Justin's 'family' was; "A family of criminals."

"I didn't care," Justin answered firmly. "They made me feel more welcome than my own father ever did." He winced as he caught the sorry expression on his mom's face.

Melanie just nodded sternly. "So you're at this house a while and then you find out according to the news that you're dead?"

Justin nodded.

"I'm assuming then you didn't write this suicide note either?" Showing him the note that was supposedly found at the house. Seeing a suicide note in writing that looked very similar to his own made him feel a little sick. It was actually worse than seeing images of his own funeral because this looked so real. If he didn't know any better he'd swear he'd have written himself but he managed not to let his emotions get the best of him. He swallowed carefully, pushed back his tears and said,

"No."

"Of course not," Melanie agreed, pausing for a second before placing the note on the judge's bench. "There's also a statement from a writing expert who states that this note is faked by a professional, probably by using a piece of writing by Justin," she told the judge and the court. "Now," she turned back to Justin. "Did Mr Kinney ever leave the house?"

"Not until we escaped to the restaurant."

"So there's no way he could have killed Jason Kemp?"

"No," Justin said frowning a little in confusion. Why would she ask that? And then he remembered Mr Dawes opening statement. "He was never alone." Then he smiled a little. "In fact, he used to moan that either me or Michael were constantly bothering him."

Melanie smiled at him and whispered, "you did good kid." Then to the judge, she said "no further questions Your Honour."

Mr Dawes stood up with all the grace of a constipated elephant but he was looking at Justin with a strange expression; half like he wanted to rip him to pieces metaphorically and literally and half like Justin was piece of gum that was clinging to the bottom of his shoe that he couldn't quite scrape off.

"So you are Justin Taylor, son of Jennifer and Craig Taylor. The boy who was kidnapped by Brian Kinney and the other men you mentioned earlier," he said, his smarmy, sneering voice grating at Justin's ears.

"He didn't kidnap me," Justin replied calmly. "I asked him to take me with him. I was eighteen. I was allowed to leave home if I wanted to."

"Why did you want to leave home?"

"My dad threatened to kill me," Justin said, he was already bored of repeating himself.

"Mmm," the man seemed to think for a second. "You say that Kinney and the others didn't make you do anything you didn't want to. You didn't have to stay with them, so why did you?"

"They were my friends," Justin replied honestly.

"Not because of your little romance with Mr Kinney?" The lawyer smirked, "I have a letter here written in your handwriting to Mr Kinney whilst he was in prison. It was left in his cell after he was granted bail." He showed it quickly to Justin and he recognized the long jagged lines of pen from where his hand had become a claw mid-word. Well, that was where they'd copied his handwriting from, Justin thought, frowning as he watched Dawes placing the letter on the Judge's Bench.

"It makes interesting reading," he sneered. "Especially the part where you say that you love him."

Justin clenched his jaw. That was his private letter. This prick had no right to read it. But Justin didn't let anything affect him. He just concentrated on breathing and keeping himself calm … and quiet. He knew an outburst of swearing would ruin everything.

"Now, Mr Taylor" Dawes said smugly, "remembering than you are under oath, do you love Mr Kinney?"

Justin stared at the other man, not really sure where he was going with this but Melanie had told him to be honest no matter what, so he stared right into the ugly lawyer's black eyes and nodded solemnly.

"Sorry," Dawes said, looking even more smug, if that were possible. "Answer 'yes' or 'no'? Do you love Mr Kinney?"

"Yes," Justin whispered.

"So much, you'd do anything for him?" Dawes suggested.

"Yes," he repeated quietly.

"Louder."

"Yes," Justin almost shouted and he caught Mel's glare telling him to hold it together.

"Anything," Dawes smirked, "perhaps lie for him in court?"

"He'd never ask me to do that!" Justin cried indignantly.

"But if he did," Dawes said firmly, "you would do it, wouldn't you Mr Taylor?"

"Objection!" Melanie cried from her table. "The question is hypothetical, misleading and has nothing to do with this case."

"Overruled," Judge Fyres said, then she fixed her beady, wrinkly eyes on the young man in the witness stand. "Answer the question, Justin."

Justin looked up at the judge and then at the lawyer. He saw the expression of utter despair on Melanie's face as she sank back to her seat. He was fucked. He either lied and they'd know he was lying or he told the truth and they'd say he was just covering for Brian. He closed his eyes and whispered.

"Yes."

The gasp from the courtroom deafened Justin.

"I swear to god," Emmett muttered. "They're going to get over-gasped if they carry on."

"Shush!" Ted hissed.

"No further questions Your Honour," Dawes beamed and Justin slumped dejectedly in his seat. He'd fucked up everything. Now they were going to claim Brian had killed Jason Kemp anyway and they'd probably arrest Justin for helping to cover it up. They'd arrest Ted and Emmett for conspiracy to murder and who knew what the fuck they'd do with Michael. What did it matter anyway? It was all over. Brian was right. He'd fled at the right time and left them to fight a battle that couldn't be won alone. Justin wished that Brian would break through the courtroom door and save him, just like he had that night his father had threatened to kill him but he knew that would never happen. It was all over. Brian had given him the chance to run away, he'd tried to save him but Justin's stupid pride and his sense of a justice he wasn't even sure he believed in anymore had stood in his way.

::

Melanie called Michael to the stand next. He was brought out from some backroom where he was being held in custody. He was handcuffed and looking at the floor, shuffling slowly. She got him to explain how the police had left Justin for dead after he'd hit the kid with a baseball bat. He explained how they'd told him they needed Justin to 'disappear' but wouldn't tell him why.

"I'm so sorry Justin," he sobbed, as he retold the story of that fateful night in the attic. He fixed the kid with big, brown, apologetic eyes. "I'm so, so sorry. I know nothing I can say will ever make it right. I just … I'm sorry," he whispered the last bit. There were tears rolling down his cheeks and his voice was cracking all over the place.

Justin could see in Michael's eyes that he was telling the truth and he just gave the man a weak smile of forgiveness. After all, it didn't matter now. They were all fucked anyway.

"I'm so sorry," Michael repeated. "I'm a different man now." And Justin saw as Michael's gaze flicked to the back of the room. Justin turned around to see Professor Ben Bruckner standing at the back, smiling warmly at the man in the stand. Well, that was a surprise. Maybe Ben was serious about Michael wanting to change, maybe Michael would win Ben back, only for them to be separated by a thick cinderblock wall.

Of course, Dawes' well practiced bullshit meant he managed to turn everything around to Brian yet again. As soon as he got out of Michael that had hit Justin because he'd been consumed with jealousy because he loved Brian, that was the end of story. Rikert and Dawes looked like Christmas had come early. They clearly weren't expecting it to be this easy but it was quickly going that way. Melanie's case looked under prepared and her story seemed weak. Of course, she'd known that would happen. Her case was nothing without Hunter's testimony. She even had evidence that Horvath had given her to give Hunter's statement more clout but without him, the evidence was useless and if her all witnesses kept admitting they were in love with Brian Kinney she was going to be screwed anyway.

"You were so in love with Mr Kinney you almost killed another person," Dawes was saying in a condescending tone, leaving Michael to nod glumly. "So you definitely love him enough to lie about him always being in that house. We already know that Mr Kinney was into much younger men." He looked pointedly at Justin and then to the jury as though sharing a joke with them about Justin's tender age.

"No," Michael interrupted. "It's not like that, Justin was different." Justin couldn't help smile a little. Hearing that from Michael made it official somehow. He knew he'd been different to the others. He knew that Brian had loved him but to hear Michael, someone who knew Brian almost better than Brian knew himself, saying it out loud made him feel more like it was real.

"I'm talking now," Dawes cut in sharply. He did not need the jury getting caught up in some sickening so-called love story between two fags to the point where they didn't convict Brian. "I don't care about Mr Kinney's perverted love affair with a teenage boy."

"Objection," Melanie called, standing up angrily. "Justin Taylor is over the legal age, his and Brian Kinney's relationship is not perverted."

"Objection sustained," Judge Fyres said sternly. "Please don't allow your personal view to affect your case, Mr Dawes."

"Sorry Your Honour," Dawes apologized quickly. "All I would like to say is that it's very likely that he could have left the house and had sexual intercourse with this other boy and murdered him. Both of his witnesses have both admitted they love him and would do anything for him … even lie in court."

"Can I just say," Melanie stood up suddenly, "that at the time of Jason Kemp's murder, Brian Kinney was the most wanted man in Pittsburgh. It would be highly unlikely that he'd manage to pick up anybody, especially as everyone was under the impression he'd kidnapped Mr Taylor at the time."

"Unlikely, perhaps," Judge Fyres agreed. "But certainly not impossible," she added coldly, "especially for a career criminal with the caliber of Mr Kinney. Now please do not interrupt my courtroom again Ms Marcus."

And Melanie just sat down again, frustrated and annoyed that nothing she was saying seemed to be getting through to anybody but what did she really expect? She was arguing the word of a bunch of criminals against the word of two well respected, upstanding officers. It was always going to be tough.

Melanie sighed when she was forced to tell the judge she had no more witnesses and then watched as Rikert took the stand. He swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth and promptly began to lie.

"Where were you the night of Jason Kemp's murder?" Dawes asked.

"Playing a weekly poker tournament at Jim's house."

"Highly respected, Police Chief Jim Stockwell?" Dawes clarified.

"Yes sir," Rikert said politely. "We go there every week, me, him and two other cops."

"So were you there when you first heard about the murder victim?"

"No, I didn't hear that there had been a murder until the next day when I was called in to investigate it."

"What were the injuries to the victim?" Dawes asked casually, pulling at his jacket confident that this was just easy and routine until the jury sided with them.

"Um, well, his face had been badly misshapen so it was impossible to identify him." Rikert explained casually. "But the victim actually suffocated after something restricted the airflow through his oesophagus."

"In layman's terms please, Mr Rikert," the judge said.

"Sorry, Your Honour," he apologised quickly. Then he looked back to Dawes, "he was strangled."

"I see," Dawes hummed. Then he went to his table and picked up a picture of Jason Kemp which was taken on the discovery of the body. He showed it to the jury and Justin gasped and turned away. It was horrible. The face was completely mangled and unrecognizable but that wasn't the bit that was interesting the courtroom. The bit they were interested in was the red marks on the kid's neck almost perfectly in the shape of hands.

"Have you seen injuries like this before, Mr Rikert?"

"Yes sir. It is common to see these kind of markings after erotic asphyxiation." Then noticing the Judge's angry expression he explained, "a sex act that involves restriction of breathing."

"That could be dangerous, couldn't it Mr Rikert?"

"Sometimes fatal," Rikert answered steadily.

Dawes just nodded and returned to his table to pick up an official looking document. "I have here," he held up the paper before giving it to the judge. "A hospital record from when Brian Kinney was nineteen years old. He spent two days recovering in hospital after an erotic asphyxiation act known as _scarfing_ went wrong. Proving that Mr Kinney was indeed a participator of this kind of sexual act."

It was hopeless. The police looked squeaky clean and the crooks looked like … well, crooks.

Melanie's cross examination didn't do much good either. She pointed out that Stockwell was a good friend of Rikert's and could easily be lying for him. She also accused him of frequenting hustler bars on a regular basis but with no substantial evidence, Judge Fyres quickly told her to get some evidence or sit down and Melanie could do nothing but take the second option.

Stockwell was called next and took his opportunity at the stand to personally apologize to Justin and Jennifer for any emotional distress caused when they had mistakenly identified the 'John Doe' in the dumpster for Justin Taylor. It was such a well delivered piece of bullshit that Justin felt sure a few of the people in the courtroom almost clapped. Once again, Melanie's defence was weak and full of unsubstantiated accusations and Justin wanted to break things in frustration.

It was useless. Justin had even begun to wonder what the prison sentences for 'perversion of the law and conspiracy to murder' were. Maybe he'd get away with a few years, especially as he was young. Perhaps they'd even feel sorry for him and let him off with community service. Or at the very least, they could put him in a cell with someone who wouldn't try to rape the shit out of him. He shuddered and clung to Emmett.

"You okay, baby?" The older man whispered.

Justin nodded but he wasn't convincing anyone.

"It'll be okay," the queen reassured him but he wasn't convincing anyone either. At least if Brian was here he'd set the record straight and say what everyone else was thinking … they were fucked.

Judge Fyres asked the Dawes if he had any other witnesses. He shook his head gleefully and sat back down quickly. He looked so elated, Justin thought he might just break into song and dance any second.

"Ms Marcus," Judge Fyres turned to the other lawyer. "Would you like to call any other witnesses to the stand?"

Melanie looked pleadingly behind her to Emmett, Justin, Ted and Debbie but they all shook their heads. They had nothing left to say.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed as she stood up and turned back to face the judge. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She was about to admit the biggest defeat ever, she was about to land three semi-innocent men in prison and let two completely corrupt cops continue to walk free and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it….

**

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****xx**

The End! **No … I'm joking!**

Two more chapters to go guys! Hope you'll stick with me til' the end! Thanks for reading and, if you want to leave a little review, well, you won't hear me complaining! =D


	25. Chapter 23

**Penultimate chapter….  
****So I'm feeling really rubbish and poorly so I think you should all be nice to me and review this chapter with lots of love….  
****Xx**

**Cue the clichés.**

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* * *

**

"Ms Marcus," Judge Fyres repeated sternly. "Would you like to call any other witnesses?"

Melanie opened her mouth to speak just as a loud bang from the back of the room made her jump. She opened her eyes and turned around to see a tall brunet, dressed in jeans and a wife beater vest. He had a leather jacket and dark glasses and a smirk splayed right across his face.

"I do hope we didn't miss the party," Brian said, arrogantly striding forward a few steps. The courtroom exploded into muttered conversations, none more than the four friends sat in the front row.

"Oh my god," Justin almost cried. "He's back!" And Ted, Emmett and Deb just looked at each other in amazement.

"What the fuck does he think he'd going to achieve coming here?" Debbie asked angrily. "He's better off in Madagascar."

But Ted just leant over and whispered in Justin's ear, "I told you he'd come back."

Brian just revelled in the disruption he was causing, his eyes scouring the room quickly until he picked out his friends. He gave them a little wave and a smile like this was actually funny, like he hadn't abandoned them for over a week. Justin was a mix of emotions. He couldn't work out whether he hated or loved Brian more.

Suddenly, a loud banging noise from the front of the room meant everyone's attention was back with the Judge.

"What is the meaning of this?" She asked angrily.

"Permit me to introduce myself," Brian started politely but the judge just cut him off sharply.

"I know who you are Mr Kinney. And I will not have my courtroom turned into a farce. Guards," she turned to the two men at the door, "please arrest Mr Kinney with contempt of court."

"Woah, woah, woah," Brian said, dodging the guards in a weird dance. "First," he smiled smugly. "I have a little gift for Ms Marcus." He took a few steps backwards so that he was out in the corridor but still in full view of everyone in the room. He appeared to be talking to someone just out of view.

"Well come on," he was saying. "It's rude to keep an audience waiting."

Debbie gasped suddenly. Emmett looked around and said, "he hasn't?"

But he had, because right then, a mop of longish greasy hair appeared around the door followed by a long skinny body. Hunter. Brian had fucking found him and brought him here.

Melanie just stared at the scruffy looking kid and turned to Justin. "Is that him?" she asked. Justin just nodded.

She beamed and turned back to the judge. "I have another witness," she announced proudly. "I'd like to call James Montgomery to the stand."

Brian watched as Hunter looked around nervously. He was hunched over and looked like a terrified mouse.

"Hey," Brian said under his breath so that only Hunter could hear. "You'll be okay," he promised. "No one will let anything happen to you. Get up there."

Hunter nodded slowly and began to take a few tentative steps towards the front of the room. As the kid reached the stand, Brian heard someone coughing somewhat embarrassedly in his ear. He turned to see one of the courtroom guards. He frowned for a second, not really sure what the man wanted and then he remembered.

"Oh, right," he sighed and held out his arms straight in front of him and the guard slapped on the handcuffs. "Kinky," Brian muttered and the guard blushed furiously. Shit, Brian smirked. The guy had a fucking crush on him. Well, he hadn't been expecting that but he supposed that what people say about everyone loving a badboy was true. He just hoped the case still went for Justin. He tried to pick him out of the crowd but he'd been somewhat obscured by Debbie's hair and now he was being pushed into a seat at the back with a guard either side of him. It would have been hot if he hadn't just risked fucking everything to give this kid a chance to say his bit.

"Don't fuck it up, Hunter," he muttered under his breath. And the kid clearly got the message because he was perfect. He told everyone in the courtroom exactly what happened. He'd even brought a picture of Rikert in the hustler bar that had been on the corkboard behind the bar. He explained how he'd followed Kemp and Rikert out of the bar**.** He told them how he waited outside the house all night until he saw Rikert taking a suitcase from the house late at night.

"This suitcase?" Melanie asked, glad she finally got to use her piece of most incriminating evidence. She pointed to a brown suitcase with blue straps that Horvath suddenly revealed from under a sheet by his side. Debbie knew she'd seen it somewhere before and then she remembered. It was in the attic. She remembered it because it had seemed out of place. Rikert and Stockwell must have been hiding it there along with everything else they hadn't wanted anyone to find. They certainly looked shocked to see it now.

"Yeah," Hunter nodded, looking stunned at revealing of the suitcase. "That's the one."

Melanie then opened the suitcase to reveal dark red stain inside to everyone in the room. "This blood," she said calmly, "was an exact match of that done in the original autopsy of Jason Kemp immediately after he was found in the dumpster."

Someone from the defending bench swore loudly but everyone ignored it, they were just staring at Melanie who was finally smiling. Hunter had seen it all and not only that, he'd described the suitcase before it had been shown to anyone in the room. His story was solid, everything added up. Finally, she felt like she might actually win this case.

"Good work Hunter," she patted his hand reassuringly and declared she'd finished questioning. Dawes got up and walked towards Hunter. He looked a little disheveled now, not quite as confident as he had before, not quite as sure of winning. The smirk that had been permanently warping his face before had completely disappeared. In fact, he looked like he wasn't even sure how he was going to begin to deal with this witness.

He tugged nervously on his tie and gulped a little before taking a long drink of water.

"James Montgomery," he started nervously, "you say you worked as a hustler and this was where you met Jason Kemp?"

"That's right."

"Tell me, Mr Montgomery, why should this jury believe your word over that of a respectable cop?"

"Er, maybe because I'm telling the truth," Hunter scorned, rolling his eyes and acting altogether like a teenager.

"Mr Montgomery," the judge warned, "will you please answer the questions sensibly."

"Sorry miss," the kid apologized and looked back to Dawes. "They should believe me 'cause it's the truth."

"Are you're sure you weren't mistaken, perhaps followed the wrong person back to the wrong house?"

"54 Elm Street, Pittsburgh" he rattled off Rikert's address immediately and then seeing the stunned faces of everyone in the courtroom he explained, "you don't stand outside a house all night waiting for your buddy and not learn the address."

Dawes look stunned. He simply had nowhere to go. The kid had already explained to Ms Marcus that he'd had no links to Kinney until the man had picked him up to bring him here. He picked Rikert out immediately as being the man he'd seen leave with Kemp that night. He'd followed them back to an address he'd been able to recite and he'd seen Rikert leave with a suitcase that had been discovered with Kemp's blood in it. He was lost. There was no possible way round this but they'd come too far for his client to plead guilty. So he just stared at the boy, who looked back seeming, if anything, quite bored of the situation.

"Mr Dawes," Judge Fyres voice rang authoritatively through the courtroom, "do you have any further questions?"

Oh well, he thought. This was his last shot at helping Rikert out.

"You made a statement about a week ago Mr Montgomery, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"But you decided to retract it. Why would you do that? Is it perhaps because it's lies? Perhaps this group of people," he pointed to where Emmett, Justin and the rest were sat, "tried to blackmail you or force you into lying in front of a courtroom? Perhaps you said you'd do it because you've had a bad time with the cops before?"

"No," Hunter began but Dawes wasn't finished on his rampage of fabrication.

"You tried to run away but Mr Kinney," Dawes looked to the back of the room where Brian was still in cuffs pinned between two guards, one of whom kept feeling up his thigh. "Mr Kinney stopped you and threatened you making you come back today and testify. Is that right?"

"Objection Your Honour," Melanie said, for what felt like the millionth time today. "Leading the witness. Mr Dawes is putting words in James's mouth."

"Objection sustained," Judge Fyres agreed. "Mr Dawes, do you have a question for James?"

"My question," Dawes said, pulling at his shirt collar because he had a horrible feeling that whatever answer this kid gave to this question would not be the one he needed, "is; why did you originally decide not testify?"

"Because I saw what you did to Jason," Hunter's eyes prickled with anger and tears. "I didn't want to end up the next body in a dumpster."

Dawes seemed to actually shrink right before their eyes. Justin thought he looked like someone had taken the air out of him but he wasn't really paying attention, he was just craning his neck trying to spot Brian. Unfortunately, a tall man with greyish hair had managed to sit himself right in the way and Justin felt like he was undergoing a slow form of torture. Knowing Brian was so close and not being able to touch him or even see him was worse than any punishment he'd ever received. He sighed and turned back to the front, just in time for Dawes to say dejectedly,

"no more questions Your Honour."

::

Melanie had called Rikert back up to the witness stand and was now working him over like a pro.

"I understand," she was saying, she sounded genuinely sympathetically, lulling him into a false sense of security. "You get lonely, you go out to a bar where all the pretty young boys hang out and you pay them for their services. There's nothing wrong with that, except it's illegal and most of the boys are underage but let's say, you only have sexual intercourse with the ones who are above the age of consent. Jason Kemp, he was eighteen or nineteen so you're perfectly safe. You take him back to your place and then what happened?"

"I was at Jim's that night," Rikert insisted. "I was playing Poker."

"Yeah, he was playing Poker alright," Emmett muttered. "Poke-a boy in the ass."

Justin laughed out loud earning himself a furious glare from Melanie as the judge reminded Rikert that he was under oath.

"We all know you weren't at Chief Stockwell's that night," Melanie said carefully. "Mr Montgomery saw you go into that bar pick up Jason Kemp and take him home. What happened when you got inside the house?"

"I was playing Poker at Jim's," Rikert repeated but the sweat was beginning to drip from his forehead. He looked flustered and anxious and completely guilty.

"Okay," Melanie suggested. "I'll tell you what I think happened, and you tell me if I get anything wrong." She looked at Rikert who just stared back unblinking. He was fidgeting and awkward, he couldn't look at anybody he just kept staring at inanimate objects maybe because they couldn't look into his eyes and know he was lying.

"I think you took him back to your place," Melanie said steadily, "and once you were inside he realized you were a cop. I think he was desperate for money and tried to blackmail you. Maybe he threatened to go to the police?" She noted the man's face had gone bright red in anger. His fists were clenched. "Maybe he just threatened to go to the press? How would the people of Pittsburgh feel if one of their highest ranked officers was paying to have sexual intercourse on a regular basis with underage boys? Kemp thought he'd get some money out of you so you killed him. Am I right, Mr Rikert?"

"You don't understand," the man suddenly exploded. "He was going to ruin everything I'd worked so hard for."

The whole courtroom seemed to gasp at the same time and Emmett tutted a little, "don't they get tired of doing that?" He asked.

"Emmett," Ted chuckled under his breath, "he as good as confessed."

"Wait …" Emmett paused and shot Ted a big grin. "You mean we've won?"

"We've won!"

"WOO HOO!" Emmett yelled and then everyone in the silent room was looking at him. "Sorry," he said and then under his breath he repeated "woo hoo."

::

The jury had barely left the room before they were back to deliver their verdict of 'guilty' to the world. Melanie and Horvath shook hands. Emmett and Ted hugged but Justin was set on one thing and one thing only. He pushed his way to the back of the room and that was when he was bumped into by one of the guards dragging Brian towards the front of the court to a holding cell.

"What the hell?" Justin asked, chasing the guard. "He didn't do anything."

"Sorry kid, he's under arrest. My hands are tied."

"Mine are handcuffed," Brian quipped. "How are you Sunshine?" he asked as casually as though they'd met on the street and not as thought he was being dragged back into a cell. Justin didn't have time to answer because the two guards had already taken him into a room out the back.

"Being dragged, handcuffed to the backroom by two hunky guards," Emmett commented with a smile. "Brian Kinney's one lucky bastard," he sighed.

"Emmett," Justin cried. He was almost in tears, he couldn't believe it. They'd won, they'd fucking won. But he just felt like he'd lost all over again. "This isn't a joke. He can't go back to prison now. He can't."

"He knew it was a possibility," Emmett said solemnly. "He risked that so that we could win the case. So that you, Ted and I would stay out of prison."

"So now he has to go back in?" Justin felt the first tear slide down his face. "What are they going to charge him with?"

"Probably every crime he's done since he was fourteen," the older man said, putting his arm around Justin as the younger man really began to cry. Justin tried to push back the tears but he could feel them burning his eyes and clogging his throat. Until he felt another hand on his shoulder and he looked up to see Horvath.

"Don't worry kid," the cop smiled. "I'll go see what I can do" and with that he followed the guards through the door.

Justin watched the door close and could do nothing but wait anxiously staring at it for a moment or two before Melanie came over and touching him lightly on the back.

"We have to go outside now," she explained. "They need the room, come on."


	26. Chapter 24: The End!

Waiting for them outside was total chaos. The press were swarming everywhere like ants at a picnic. They were all desperate for a story with a twist or a new angle. Each wanted to be the first to tell the world that the Pittsburgh Police Department were a corrupt organization. The OUTlaws, everyone's new favourite anti-hero's had come out on top, which is exactly where leader Brian Kinney would like to be. Melanie was immediately dragged away to do an interview with several large news company but none of them were satisfied with the official line, they just kept clamouring the gang for an interview or a statement. They completely surrounded them and Justin was feeling more than a little claustrophobic as they pushed in around them.

He clung to Emmett like a limpet and the taller man could do nothing but stroke his hand soothingly but Justin didn't feel soothed. He just wanted to see Brian again. He wanted to go home … wherever the fuck that was. He wanted this all to be over. He certainly didn't want this press zoo hounding him for a statement. He turned towards Emmett, buried his head in the taller man's chest and closed his eyes. He felt like a child who plays hide and seek by closing their eyes, using the 'if I can't see you, you can't see me' principal but he didn't care how stupid or how childish he looked. He didn't want to see anymore flashing lights or anymore bright white teeth or anymore goddamn microphones.

"Go on Deb," Emmett urged, pushing her towards the camera. "This is your big moment."

Debbie looked at the other men and shook her head, "oh I couldn't." But she had a face that suggested she really could.

"No comment," Ted repeated for the millionth time as a journalist tried to push past him to get to get to Justin. "Course you can Deb. Everyone's always saying you've got a big mouth. Why not use it and tell the world what happened?"

She beamed and turned around beginning to talk to the closest camera. Justin felt himself being ushered away and opened his eyes just in time to see Deb become completely engulfed by the news crews. All he could see was her red wig bobbing above the camera and here her voice saying that justice had finally been done. Thankfully, Debbie's willingness to tell the press everything they wanted to hear meant that Ted, Emmett and Justin were being left in relative peace with only the odd journalist coming to ask Justin a question.

And that was when Justin heard his mother's wavering voice from behind him.

"Justin, honey?" She whispered.

"Mom," he gave her a watery smile. It seemed surreal. He'd never expected to be this close to his mother ever again.

"Oh my god," Jennifer suddenly gasped and pulled him close. "Justin," she whispered in his ear. "My sweet baby, I'm so glad you're alright." Justin wasn't sure if it was because he was too tired or because he was too emotional or because this day was going to either become the best or the worst of his life depending on whether Brian would come back through that door with Horvath or maybe it was just because he was being held in his mother's arms and being surrounded by her warmth and her comforting smell; but he was suddenly crying uncontrollably. He was crying all the tears he'd held back over everything that had happened in the last nine months. He was crying for what he'd lost and what he'd gained and then he was crying because he couldn't stop.

"It's okay, honey," his mother soothed him gently. "I'm here now."

Justin nodded slightly against her shoulder. He could feel the blinding lights from the cameras who were keen to catch this emotional story on film. Justin could already see the headlines; _'Justin Taylor Reunited With Mom After Four Months of Being Presumed Dead' _or probably more likely; _'Gay Teen Comes Home' _because newspapers can't wait to tell people the story's about 'one of those gays' but he ignored the lights and the cameras and the microphones and just sobbed in his mother's arms.

"I could hardly believe it was you when you walked in the room," she was smiling but there were tears shining in her eyes. "I just didn't want to believe. I've thought I've seen you so many times in the past months," she sniffed a little. "But now…" she hugged him tighter. "God Justin," she whispered, kissing his blonde hair. "You have no idea how good it is to see you."

Justin nodded some more. He was feeling a little calmer now so he stood up and smiled a very teary smile at his mom, before drying his cheeks on the sleeve of his shirt.

"Is d-dad not here?" he asked, still gulping in great lung-fulls of air.

"Your father doesn't…." She stopped, stroking her son's beautiful blonde hair, pushing it behind his ear. It wouldn't quite stay but she didn't stop trying. "He doesn't really…." She stopped again. God, this was harder than she'd thought it would be.

"It's okay mom," Justin sniffed a little. "I get it." His father didn't want to see his little queer son. It was okay. He hadn't expected anything more.

"He's okay thought, isn't he?" Justin asked. "You're happy?"

"I'm very happy," his mother confirmed. "How could I not be? I've got my son back in my life," she gave him another tight squeeze, before letting him go and giving him a small smile. "But," she said no louder than a whisper, "I have something to tell you about your father and I." She looked at the sky and then at the journalists who were listening in carefully. Suddenly, her lips pursing together and she looked like she was trying very hard not to cry all over again.

"Mom," Justin frowned with worry. "Mom, what is it?"

"Your father and I," she repeated, blinking furiously in a desperate attempt to dispel the tears, "we're divorced." She said it quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid, hoping the sting would be over quicker like that a small gasp from the media. And Justin imagined the new headlines; _'Justin Taylor Returned to a Broken Home._'

Jen wasn't sure what reaction she'd been expecting from her son. Maybe some reaction would have been nice but what he actually said was, "oh," as though she'd just told him a semi-interesting fact about beans and turned to the people he'd called his family during his turn on the stand. "I have some people I want you to meet."

Justin felt bad for not reacting more but what could he say. He couldn't tell her he was sorry. He wasn't. In fact, he'd felt it had added to his happiness no end. His mother was free of the crazy-ass shit with a bad temper he had the misfortune of calling a 'dad'; that was definitely a good thing. He introduced his mother to Debbie then Ted and lastly Emmett. He was just glad the press were staying a decent-ish distance away now, they were just trying to film and document every action.

"Pleasure to meet you Mrs Taylor," the two men said almost in unison. Debbie of course had immediately started calling her Jen as though they were old friends.

Jennifer had to admit she felt more than a little weird making small talk with criminals. Especially the criminals that had robbed her house and stolen her son from her but she actually found she had some things in common with Debbie and that Emmett and Ted seemed nice enough too and they were doing an excellent job repeating the words 'no comment' to any happy-go-lucky journalist trying to get a conversation with one of the Taylor's. In fact, Jen was finding it hard to imagine any of this group breaking the law. She also, however, couldn't help feel they weren't really paying attention to her. All of them, including Justin, had their attention constantly flicking to the door of the courthouse and she knew why. They were waiting for him.

Brian Kinney. The man who'd shot her ex-husband in the hand. The man who'd taken her son from her. The man who'd fucked her son. The man who'd introduced him into this world of criminals and debauchery. The man her son had fallen completely and passionately in love with. It was obvious the way he kept staring at the door, fidgeting about and rocking on his toes and it was obvious because she was his mother and she just knew. Her son was in love with completely the wrong guy and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

"You should be so proud," Debbie was saying honestly. "You've raised an amazing boy. He's brave and he's dealt so well with so much and he's…" but the rest of her sentence was completely drowned out by the stampede that had suddenly attacked the courthouse door. Cameras were clicking, lights were illuminating and journalists were shouting and that could only mean the arrival of one person; Brian Kinney.

Brian stood on the top step of the courthouse looking around semi-frantically. It was hard to see anything with all the flashes going off in his eyes but he squinted and peered around until he spotted Justin. He grinned and pushed roughly through the crowd of reporters, not caring if they dropped their equipment or if he accidentally stood on their toes or any of the other things they were currently complaining about.

"Fuck off," he said as he virtually threw a camera man out of his way and kept marching until he was stood right in front of Justin.

"Hey," he smiled and the smile was genuine and full of love.

"Hey," Justin smiled back. They just looked at each other for a second. Brian almost didn't want to move, afraid that something would break if he touched Justin. He'd resided himself to the fact he'd never see this man again and now this felt like the most beautiful of surreal dreams. Except for the fact they were totally surrounded by cameras on all sides. The hush surrounding them was eerie for so many people but Brian felt like he could hardly see them anyway; all he could see was Justin, all he could smell was Justin, all he could feel was … OW!

Because it was at that moment that Justin had chosen to slap Brian hard across the face.

Brian had barely got out a "what the fuck was that for?" when Debbie slapped him hard across the other cheek. His face was stinging and felt totally misshapen his eyes watering but he wasn't blind enough to get fooled a third time and as the next hand came in to connect with his face he grabbed it immediately around the wrist and glared at its' owner, only to find he didn't even know who the fuck the owner was. She was a woman in her late-forties/ early-fifties, with blonde hair and a furious expression.

"Who the fuck are you?" He demanded.

"Justin's mother," she answered sharply and Brian had to concede if he deserved a slap of anyone it was probably her.

"Fair enough," he sighed releasing her hand and bracing himself for the final slap, which left his face burning from the impact.

"Anyone else?" He asked, looking around the group of his so called friends. Emmett made to lift his hand but Ted stopped him and shook his head slightly. "Good," Brian snapped. And then he looked a little sheepish, touching a hand to his stinging cheek he said slowly, "though I guess I probably deserved that."

"You're damn straight you did," Debbie yelled. "How could you do it to us? Make us think you were leaving forever."

"I was leaving forever," Brian confirmed. Then he looked at Justin, "I didn't want to come back."

"So why did you?" Justin whispered.

"Ignacio came out with some more of his famous Mexican sayings," Brian explained smiling a little. "He told me that a life without love is not a life at all."

Justin blinked a little, his eyes misting over because … no, he wasn't going to cry like some silly faggot or worse like some silly breeder girl in rom-com.

"And then he and Marv started making out and it made me sort of nauseous, but," he sighed, took a deep breath and tentatively raised his hand to cup Justin's cheek, "I couldn't do it, I couldn't just leave … not without you, mi amor."

Justin beamed at him and practically threw himself into the older man's arms.

"Christ," Brian chuckled against the younger man's lips, "one Spanish word and you literally throw yourself at me."

"Mm," Justin replied between kissing. "I'm still not easy."

Brian laughed a little more and they continued to kiss. The cameras closed in around them but Brian began to push them away with one hand, the other firmly around Justin. Christ, the media were going to have a fucking field day with stories from this courtroom but Brian really didn't care. He didn't care about any of it. He had Justin in his arms and that was all that mattered.

Eventually they pulled apart and the excited chatting began again. Emmett and Debbie immediately began to gossip.

"Did he just basically tell Justin he came back for love?" Emmett was giggling. "Oh it really_ is_ a Jackie Collin's novel."

"I can't get over it," Deb was whispering. "Brian Kinney, doing what's right because he wanted to prove himself to someone else."

"I knew he'd come back," Ted said smugly. "I just didn't know he'd bring Hunter." They all looked up at the boy. He was currently locked in an embrace with Ben, who was telling him over and over how well he'd done and how brave he was.

"How do you suppose he found him?" Emmett asked.

"I went to the place all people go when they want to feel safe," Brian interrupted their conversation, his arm still firmly around Justin's shoulders.

"And where's that, Detective Kinney?" Emmett mocked.

"His home?"

They all looked confused. "But we checked there."

"Not his home now, his childhood home. I found out where he used to live and found him camped out in an old tree house in the garden."

"How did you persuade him to testify?" Justin asked curiously.

"I told him about another young man who had to stand up in court and testify, many, many years ago."

"You?" Justin asked in surprise. "You told him about you?"

Brian just shrugged and Justin hugged him just a little tighter. He wasn't sure it would ever be possible to love this man more. He was still gazing up at him when he heard Ted clear his throat a little uncomfortably and Emmett say "uh-oh," in a sing song voice. Justin watched them take a few steps back and wasn't sure why until he heard his mother say, "So this is him? This is Brian Kinney?"

Brian actually looked nervous as he scratched the back of his neck and said, "er, hello Mrs Taylor."

"I really," she laughed bitterly, "don't know what to make of you."

"Few do," Brian responded immediately and Jen just nodded her head.

"Yes, well…." She trailed off for a second before looking right at him and saying, "you're a criminal. You're a liar and a thief. You shot my husband, you kidnapped my child. You introduced him into," she looked around her, "all this."

Brian said nothing, he just ran his hands through his hair. He really had nothing to say, it wasn't as though any of it wasn't true.

"He was nearly killed with a baseball bat by some friend of yours." Brian winced at that and she softened suddenly, lifting her hand to stroke her son's cheek gently and when she continued, her voice was low and sweet, "but he loves you." She said looking straight at Brian. "And I believe, god help me," she whispered, "that you love him too."

Brian nodded a little and Justin pressed himself closer to the older man. He knew this couldn't be easy for him. He hated romance, he hated the notion of love and now it was all anyone was talking about.

Jennifer suddenly looked to her son and gave him a watery smile and he beamed back at her. "You make him happy," she continued to Brian but still looking at her son. "I haven't seen him smile like this since he was a little boy." Then she turned sternly and looked at the older man with all the anger and protectiveness a mother could have. "Be good to him," she warned.

"I will," Brian promised.

Justin didn't know what would have happened then. Maybe they'd have shaken hands or stared awkwardly at each other for a moment, but thankfully it was then that Horvath called.

"Kinney, a word." Brian looked up to see the cop looking incredibly stern. "All of you better come inside too," he added and with that they followed the cop back into the courthouse. Justin was clinging to Brian's wrist. It seemed like he couldn't let him go now, not even for a second.

As soon as they were in the courthouse corridor, everything seemed immediately calmer. Brian had to detach himself from Justin to go and speak to Horvath privately a few feet away. Justin watched as Brian walked over, understandably a little anxious. Cops, after all, were still the enemy.

"Kinney," Horvath said as the man got close, "I want to say thank you for bringing in that kid, without him. Well… Thanks." He held out his hand. Brian looked at his for a moment or two and then smirked a little.

"Sorry Horvath," he smiled. "I don't generally shake hands with cops."

"No," the cop nodded, a slight grin on his face at the other man's stubbornness. "Well, I wanted to tell you that there's another way out of the courthouse and that your friends are there waiting for you."

"Thanks," Brian said firmly.

"Least I could do," Horvath said honestly. "But just so you know Kinney, this little," he pointed between the two of them, "truce is only for 24 hours. After that, you're mine."

Brian laughed a little though his nose "That long huh?" The older man just shrugged and as he began to walk away Brian called, "what about Michael?"

The whole gang heard him ask the question and they all took a step forward to hear what Horvath had to say.

"I offered him the same deal as you," he said calmly. "Offered to ignore the charges for a while but he insisted he wanted to do his time. Says he's trying to impress some new man. Tom or Brad or…"

"Ben?" Justin asked quickly, coming to Brian's side.

"Something like that, yeah," Horvath nodded. "Anyway, I reduced the crime from aggravated assault to simple assault but he's still looking at another six months to a year." He shrugged. He turned and began to walk off but just before he entered a room, Brian called

"Hey, Horvath" and held out his hand.

Horvath looked at it pointedly and said. "Sorry Kinney. I don't generally shake hands with crooks." Brian grinned and the cop just smiled back. "Don't forget, 24 hours Kinney and you're mine."

"24 hours Horvath and you'll never see me again."

"I sincerely hope not," Horvath agreed and shut the door quickly behind him.

"24 hours? What does all that mean?" Justin asked. Brian just smiled down at him.

"It means," he smirked, turning back to the group and slinging his arm around Justin's shoulder's, "let's get the fuck out of here before I become a permanent resident at cinderblock falls."

"Woo hoo," Emmett cried, bouncing a little before chanting, "road trip, road trip, road trip."

Justin started laughing immediately but Brian just shook his head in anger before snapping, "will you stop chanting about it and get a fucking move on?"

He grabbed Emmett by the arm and virtually threw him towards the back exit to the building. Ted smiled and began to follow them too.

"You have a good trip boys," Deb called after them.

"Wait," Justin frowned. "You're not coming with us?"

"Michael's still here," she shrugged. "Besides," she smiled, pulling a small scrap of paper from her bra, "a certain detective has told me to give him a call."

"No fucking way," Emmett gasped. "Oh my god Deb, that's wonderful."

"That's perverse," Brian countered. "The Debbie Novotny I used to know, the Midnight Mistress, would never fuck a cop."

"Well, the Brian Kinney I used to know would never risk his ass for love." She smiled at Justin.

"I guess a lot of things used to be," Brian sighed. Then he strolled right up to her, pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek and whispered, "I'm happy for you, Deb."

"You too … asshole," she smiled fondly at him. He just shrugged and went back to join his friends as they began to take off down the corridor.

"Wait!" Another voice called.

"Christ!" Brian snapped. "Now what?" They all turned around to see Jennifer looking meek with tears shining in her eyes.

"Justin," she whispered. "What's going on?"

"Brian's got to leave mom," Justin explained. "They'll arrest him if he stays. He'll go to prison." She stared numbly. She knew what was coming. "And I have to go too. You know that, don't you?" She nodded. She knew it but she didn't understand it. "I love you, mom," he whispered, hugging her tightly. "And I'll call you all the time."

"You can come visit … whenever you want, " Brian piped up suddenly and both Taylor's turned to look at him.

"Really?" The younger Taylor asked and Brian just nodded. Justin turned back to his mom. "Then you have to visit," he said. "soon. Bring Molly. It'll be amazing."

She just nodded, tears filling her eyes. "I will," she whispered and then she just stood and watched as her son ran back to man he loved. And they all disappeared out of the back door, skipping and jumping and running like children on a playground.

"He'll be alright," Debbie said in her ear, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder. "Brian won't let anything happen to him."

"You're sure?" Jen asked.

"I've known Brian a long time," Debbie said slowly. "Too long," she muttered. "He hasn't changed much," she smiled. "But one thing he does do, one thing he's always done, is make sure the people he cares about are looked after. And he sure as hell cares about your son."

Jen nodded numbly. "I'm sure you're right," she gave the woman a watery smile.

"Hey," Deb said, "why don't we mothers go to a café and grab a cup of coffee. We can just … talk. About anything you like."

"I'd like that," Jen smiled. "I could sure use a friend right now."

"Me too."

::

Emmett rushed out into the parking lot first and just stared at the RV, with the two men standing next to it.

"Finally," the rounder, balder of the two sighed. "Ted," he grinned as the man came out the door.

"Marv?" Ted smiled walking over and shaking his hand. "It's been … years," he gasped.

"Can you boys get boners about the past later?" Brian scowled. "We're sort of in hurry."

"Ah, Rayito de luz," Ignacio smiled on spotting the younger man. "Nice to see you again."

"Igualmente," Justin replied immediately. Ignacio looked mildly impressed and looked to Brian.

"His Spanish is so good."

"He had a good teacher," Brian shrugged, "you should hear the dirty phrases he can come out with." and Justin just laughed, turning to Brian and saying;

"Quiero que me folles durante horas"

"Mm," the skinny man replied, raising an eyebrow, "you have taught him all the important stuff," he smirked. "You hurry up now. We are already late. Hurry, hurry. Apúrate!"

They all piled into the back of the RV and began to sit on various sofas except Brian who was dragging Justin into the RV's master bedroom.

"So," Brian asked Justin, pushing him onto the bed and stripping him quickly, "where would you like to go?"

"I've always like Madagascar," Justin smirked, pulling Brian's jacket off his shoulder

"Ah," Brian smiled, dipping to nuzzle Justin's neck, "an excellent choice."

* * *

**Erm … wow! So yeah, it's over! Thanks so much to EVERYONE who's read, reviewed, faved and alerted this story. Everyone of you make me happy. And thanks to any silent readers too … everyone who's stuck this story out to the end is a legend in my mind.**

**Just a final thank you to my beta Boriqua522 for giving me the confidence to post chapters and for preventing these chapters from being uploaded as error-filled, non-Americanised mess'.**

**Also a huge thank you (or should that be Gracias?) to Albiku for fixing my VERY questionable Spanish and for just helping me through a few of the chapters!**

**Finally thank you to _YOU_ for reading. I hope you'll take the time to leave a little review (I will actually try to reply to these ones) but thanks anyway.**

**InconspicuousBunny…xx**


	27. Shameless SelfPlug

**Sequel to this story to arrive some point today (UK - 08/09/2011) (US - 09/08/2011)… look out for Fire Off Your Guns by Inconspicuous Bunny.**

**Hope to see you all there for another AU story about Pittsburgh's OUTlaws.**

**xx**


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